Lost in Time: Destiny
by DiegoRedeemedLover
Summary: A gift-story for Trev/thelonemongrel. He was a brash American marine. She was a young British tomboy with an interest in Tolkien and Christianity. Can anything bring them together? Full summary inside. T for mild sensuality and language, violence.
1. Intro: The Beginning of the End

Destiny

A gift-story for Trev/thelonemongrel. He was a brash American marine. She was a young British tomboy with an interest in Tolkien and Christianity. Can anything bring them together? The progression of Sam Howard's and Terry Daniels' relationship up to the Troubles and beyond. Based off of the characters of _Lost in Time_: _Origins._

SPOILERS for the original story/novel, so I advise you not to read this one before you've read Trev's _Lost in Time: Origins_ first! :D Tis a really amazing, well-written, magnificent story and I highly encourage you all to read it - and _don't _forget to review either! :) ;)

**I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and the amazing Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of **_**Lost in Time**_** belong to Trev. :D And don't forget to read Trev's own amazing story that this is a spin-off of, _Lost In Time: Origins! _  
**

_My apologies for how long this chapter is! __I cut it in half, but it's still everlastingly long, mea culpa for that. Hopefully it will be exciting enough that everyone will actually read it all from beginning to end! :-) _

_Also, here is the music to listen to while reading the sections with the Troubles sequences, Immediate Music's Serenata Immortale. _

_Here's the link, just remove the spaces: _

http. www. youtube watch? v=1HtCquBppTc&feature = related

_Happy Birthday Trev! :D :D :D _

_P.S. I am already at work on the second chapter!  
_

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x **  
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The jagged crest of the dormant volcano of Half-Peak sliced into the skyline as the second half of the Herd, comprised of Manny, his mate Ellie, their daughter Peaches, the sabre cub Mark, and their human friend Frank's mate Claire and his son, Ben stopped to rest for the night. A few days earlier, they had been joined by a band of deserters from Diego's former alpha Soto, who had been stalking them in an attempt to bring about retribution on the mammoth and his erstwhile second-in-command; lead by Sam, the mate of Terry (Soto's _new_ second-in-command) who Manny was still very suspicious about.

The woolly mammoth glanced around at the band that he'd gathered around the small fire built by the human soldier, Sam's mate. Mark was lying beside him at his feet with a drowsy light in his eyes, gazing over at the petite dark-headed woman who sat on a downed tree trunk, her arms wrapped around her husband. His strong arms enfolded her upper body alongside his, providing her more warmth against the brusque chill of the Ice Age surroundings. Peaches lay in Ellie's trunk, her eyes buttoned up in sleep as the lady mammoth rocked her back and forth. Claire, Frank's mate, sat on another tree-trunk seat that the healer Nigel had assisted his friend Charlie in finding, and she was holding her son Ben in her arms, and he'd fallen asleep in her tender grasp. Claire looked up at Ellie with a smile, and a shared look passed between the mothers, over the heads of their babies – one that indicated that moments like this were over far too quickly.

Manny gazed into the dancing blue streaks of the fire. The flickering tiny lights caused the mammoth to reminisce over Sid, finding that he missed the sloth's droll behavior. He raised his eyes from his reflections brought upon by the fire to see the dire wolf, Lt. James Hudson, staring at him thoughtfully. At that moment, Mark got to his feet, padding over to where Terry sat with Sam on their log. In the glow of the light of the fire, Manny noticed the cub's mouth open slightly in a small smile as he looked at the generously muscled soldier. Terry's eyes sought Mark's, and he grinned back, extending his hand towards the cub. Accepting the invitation, Mark retracted his claws, batting at Terry's hands playfully as the man responded by gently striking his hands against the cub's large paws.

Inwardly, the bull mammoth sighed as he witnessed the interaction between the feisty cub related to his best friend and his friendship with the man he'd saved during that horrible day when the Meltdown Valley crumbled beneath their feet. Memories flooded through his mind as he relived the moment that he had saved Diego in much the same way that Mark had risked his life to save the fighter.

"_Why did you do that… you could have __**died **__trying to save me. _Manny clearly remembered the guilty, conflicted expression in the tiger's eyes as he had said that, and he recalled that he had inexplicably felt somewhat compassionate for him for some unknown reason.

_"That's what you do in a herd." _Manny had replied, not knowing that those words and his actions towards Diego would forever impact their friendship ever afterwards.

A melancholy smile quirked the edges of his mouth as he how wondered how Diego was doing right now and realised anew how keenly he missed the presence of the tiger. Sam raised her head from her husband's shoulder; her right arm actively engaged in rubbing Hudson's neck (which, Manny noticed, he didn't seem to mind) and caught the last vestiges of his expression.

"Manny?" she asked, breaking the peaceful silence around the campfire. "Are you all right?"

In response, the mammoth set his mouth in a firm line, his brown eyes stormy. Ellie glanced at her mate with concern, and then raised an eyebrow in Sam's direction as they waited for Manny to react.

"I'm fine," the mammoth said gruffly. "I was just missing my friends." Mark's ears rose at the word "friends" and he turned his face towards Manny, his eyes alight with conflicted questions.

"You mean like my uncle Diego?" he whispered.

"Yes," Manny answered reluctantly, not desiring to bring up the confusion the young cub obviously felt towards his uncle again. Hearing the word "uncle" Peaches and Ben stirred slightly, waking up as they sensed the tension in the air, so Ellie placed her little daughter on the ground in front of the fire, where she looked up at her father with a curious expression in her eyes and Ben rubbed his grubby face tiredly, blinking his brown eyes open. Hudson spoke up from the corner.

"There's a story in there, now isn't there, mammoth." He stated. It was not a question.

"Story! Story!" Peaches cried out with excitement, and Mark nodded his head; he was interested as well.

The mammoth's brown eyes widened slightly at this statement, but of course there was no way to gainsay it, it was the truth. But he had no inclination to bring it up now when his brothers the tiger and the sloth weren't there to share in the telling with him, and he had no desire to exacerbate Mark's pain.

Fortunately for Manny, Claire protested, and so did Crash and Eddie.

"Awww… Manny!" Crash exclaimed. "We've heard that story at least a hundred times, we're bored of it!"

"Yeah," Eddie agreed with his brother, and they did their peace-out sign together. Manny rolled his eyes at their antics, but he was secretly relieved.

Claire spoke up after glancing down at Ben resting in her arms, but her objection was different from his brother-in-laws.

"Manny, it's late, and really, any story featuring Soto in it doesn't make for a good story to tell at night I think, especially for the young ones."

Next to her, Peaches scowled at this pronouncement, even though she'd heard the story already, but that didn't bother her, she wanted to hear it again.

"Yes," Manny repeated, addressing his remark towards the dire wolf as he cast a curious glance towards Hudson and where he sat by Sam and Terry. Finding an escape route from this debacle over the story, Manny redirected the conversation towards Sam.

The mammoth stared at Sam and Terry together in each other's arms, focusing his gaze on the young woman.

"You know, Sam, I'd think we'd all really appreciate a story from you."

Frank's petite kid sister grinned in reply.

"What kind of story?" she inquired, snuggling up against her mate once more, and he placed his arm protectively over her. This gave Manny the idea he needed.

"If it's of no offense to either of you," he suggested, casting a benign look over at Terry.

"I think we would all like to know how you two found each other – It's sure to be an interesting story."

Terry raised pale yellow eyebrows at this statement, but a single look from Sam silenced any protest he might have had.

"This is a fine idea," she agreed with the mammoth.

"All of us who have lived under the grip of Soto's enslavement could use a little humanising, now don't we?" she concluded, addressing her question to Terry, Charlie, Nigel, and the sabres who'd mutinied against Soto, and they nodded in assent.

"All right then," Sam went on, squaring her shoulders. She glanced at Terry hopefully.

"Terry, you and I will go first and tell our stories about our life together."

The American soldier leaned in close to her, his lips brushing hers in the glow of the firelight. Only those nearby heard his whispered words,

"Anything for you, my love."

Manny raised his eyebrows at this, but let it slide by; pleased to see that possibly he had misjudged Terry – in some matters.

"Okay," Sam spoke up into the night, tears trembling on the edges of her voice as memories resurfaced.

"My story begins the year I was eighteen, though it might be more accurate to say that it really began the year I was fifteen when Frank and my father had a row over him joining the army, but this story begins in another time. It was the twenty-eighth of July, and undercurrents of terror are beginning to lurk beneath of the surface of my city, London…."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

July 28th, 2019. The Day the Troubles Began

Samantha Elizabeth Howard gazed with an almost too eager excitement out of the window of the King's Head Pub, located in the heart of London, completely ignoring the beer sat before her on the counter. The bartender glanced at her with a query in his eyes, which made his eyebrows rise upwards in a nervous tic as he inspected the girl again. She was petite, with snappy cobalt blue eyes, dark brown hair, and she wore a long black trench-coat. Peering over the counter, the bartender heard the sounds of rustling, and glanced around in apprehension, at first fearing it was a mouse in his store.

Sam turned to look at him, a playful, feisty light in her eyes which stopped the bartender cold. He knew of rumors that the Howard girl was a bit untamable and that no one who attempted his suit with her could even think of winning – whether it be at horse racing, wrestling, or, when the Howard girl turned to more "feminine" pursuits like Trivial Games, all the men who went up against her always lost.

_She is an enigma_, people whispered as she strolled through town in her tatty old jeans, worn from constant use of them in whatever athletic event she was partaking in, an ancient yellow mackintosh, and her trademark black trench-coat which held all her necessary items (a knife to protect herself from assailants, her makeup case {when she remembered to put it into one of the large pockets on the coat}, and several small books, depending on her interest at the time; _It probably comes of growing up alone_ _without a mother, and only her older brother and father to watch her, she runs wild. _

And maybe it was so. Maybe she _did _run wild. Disregarding the gossip he leaned over the counter again, just in time to see the girl silently slip a compact tome out of one of the pockets of her coat with the delicacy of removing an artifact from the primeval past out of the ground, the dog-eared edition rustling as she did, causing the bartender to flinch slightly again at the sound. Sam didn't notice, already opening the book to a favorite passage. In an undertone, she began to recite "The Road Goes Ever On," written by the hobbit Bilbo. Terribly impressed, the bartender cleared his throat, causing Sam to glance up with that penetrating gaze she had that nearly quailed everyone except those close to her, among which she counted as only her father and her older brother, Frank, who was in the military at present. _He_ was one of the brave ones. The bartender was not one, unfortunately.

Turning his eyes down, he murmured "That's excellent that you can recite that…" he darted a glimpse at her, hope shining in his eyes. "You know, I share an interest in the Old Master of fantasy as well. Well, erm, me name is…" But Sam, whose sharp mind had already intercepted his name from his workers, countered,"Matthias."

Her gaze dared him to stand up for himself, but he didn't, only peering at the girl with a disgraceful interest in spite of its pettiness. Sam grimaced in disappointment, grabbed her tankard of beer with fierce velocity, and then gulped it down avidly, glowering at the nearby men in the room at the same time. Satisfied, she slapped her change down on the counter, and then carefully replaced the dog-eared copy of _The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring _back into her right pocket in her trench-coat. In the second one under it was a treatise on biology, with her because of her biology class at University, and which she read whenever she wasn't reading one of her copies of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Her father teasingly started calling her "Samwise" due to her affection for them that began the year she was twelve; when he hugged her at night he reminded her that she was always to be his loyal, caring, determined, sacrificial (even if it meant her own death), and that, most of all, that he loved her. Occasionally, Sam noticed big brother Frank standing at the doorway to her room during those situations with a sad half-smile on his lips, and she knew he was remembering their mother, who had died when she was born. Sam scarcely remembered her mother, but Frank and their father did, and she was aware of the strain in their relationship that her mother's death had magnified, though Frank had taught her essential boy stuff like archery, spitting, defending herself if she was walking alone and was assaulted in an alleyway, while her father fostered her interest in biology and literature. Her brother though, had even tried to find suitable beaus for his kid sister, but Sam turned her small nose up at all of them.

_Hell_, Sam muttered in her head as she stalked out into the cobblestone street outside the pub._ I don't need a man in my life. None of them shall tame me, and besides, Papa is the only guy in my life that I could possibly need, anyway. _

She stopped short at the zebra crossing, her thin cheeks sucked in as she glanced back at the offending pub with disgust glimmering in her stony cobalt eyes. Shoving some untidy wisps of her dark brown hair out her face, she thrust her hands deep into her pockets, apparently feeling a chill despite the warm, crisp July day. Continuing on her way to the bus stop, the young woman trod along the motorway, her face bent against the wind that has unexpectedly whisked into being, ignoring the admiring glances of men along the road, casting leers at her trim figure with devious thoughts on their minds about her.

Finally reaching the bus stop, Sam dropped onto the metal seat with a sigh that was half discontent and half frustration as she rubbed her hands wearily over her eyes, unconsciously smearing the makeup she was wearing. Pushing the side bangs on the right side of her face out of her vision, she leaned back against the seat, her brow knit as she wondered if there was possibly more to life, like in those glorious stories Tolkien wrote – but was there? The bus pulled up to a halt alongside the gray sidewalk, spewing light smoke into the street. The girl, interrupted from her musings, shot upright, shrugging her shoulders as if to ward off the thoughts she had been pondering, and then boarded her transportation for home.

Taking her seat on the bus Sam explored the contents in her pockets, lovingly touching the pages of her books. The bus lurched as the driver started it up again, causing the girl place her feet down solidly on the floor for some stability. As she did so, a small rectangular shape hit against her combat boots. The dark-haired girl's eyebrows quirked as she realised that it appeared to be the form of a book of some sort – and she was always eager for more reading material, so she picked up the compact tome – it reminded her of the size of her Tolkien novels – and found that it was covered with dust, obscuring the title. Its pages were thinly embossed with gold on the edges, and this intrigued her. Brushing her hand over the surface of the book, she caught a glimpse of words shining in gold: _Holy Bible. _

Momentarily confused, Sam glanced around to see if this particular book belonged to anyone on the bus, and then she recalled that this seat was empty. The person sitting on the seat must have forgotten this book – whatever it was. The right thing to do would be to find its owner, though Sam doubted that that possibility would even be feasible. With a frustrated grimace, she slipped the book into her pocket along _the Fellowship_, planning to take it up with the driver at her stop. Content that she had a plan, Sam rested her arms on the bus window, gazing into the streets with curiosity as she noticed fully the scads of police patrolling up and down the avenues. Temporally she wondered why so many police were out in the streets looking so grim and subtly menacing, but her thoughts flew from her mind the instant the bus staggered to a halt next to her apartment house she shared with her father in Camberwell, London. The door opened, and her father stepped outside to greet her.

The girl smiled in anticipation, checked to make sure that all her belongings were still in her coat, grabbed her change for the ride along with the small tome she'd found, and went to go speak to the driver about it. After paying him the money, Sam showed him the book in her hands.

"Do you know whose it is?" she asked, a question lingering on her brow. The driver massaged his forehead as if in exhaustion, delaying his response, as he knew she was very curious about the book and wouldn't mind reading it.

"Well," he began, cracking a tiny half-smile. "You did the right thing – " he was about to say "girlie" but the expression on Sam's face warned him against it, so he inserted "but its owner probably left at the previous stop. It's yours."

"Thank you," Sam responded with a tight smirk, and then she clambered out of the bus, yelling,

"Daddy! Daddy!"

…

Her father swept her into his arms for a warm hug and then waved the bus driver on, before going into the house with his daughter, Sam's arms still wrapped around her father's waist. Once inside the house, her father went into the kitchen, and then emerged into the living room bearing a tray and tea-cups. The girl grinned happily at this treatment, strolling over to give her father a kiss on the cheek.

Once they were sitting down with their tea-cups in their chairs, Sam dispensed with all small talk, abruptly asking a question about her brother.

"Daddy, have you heard anything from Frank lately?"

At Frank's name, her father visibly winced, as he had vehemently disapproved of her brother joining the army, leaving Sam trapped in the middle between her beloved brother and father.

"I _heard_ that he was doing fine," her father responded, attempting to stay the tension heavy in the air. "But you should know Sam that he hardly ever keeps in touch."

"He does with me," Sam countered gently, hearing the two words her father hadn't said _with me _echoing through her mind. Grasping around inside her pockets for her mobile, Sam clasped it in her hand for reassurance. Noticing a slight bemusement emanating from her father, she amended,

"but not recently either, Daddy." Inwardly she sighed; exhausted from being torn in two ways from the people she loved best in the world.

With a slight smile turning the corners of his lips, her father strode across the room to her, bending down to give his daughter a kiss on her hair. Enjoying his rare affection, Sam clasps his hands in hers, leaning in close to him as she wrapped her arms around him again in a loving hug.

"I love you Daddy," she whispered, holding him tight in her arms. Their tea-time finished, Sam and her father stayed in their living room. Sam placed her combat boots on the couch to prop her legs up so that she could continue reading _The Fellowship of the Ring_, causing her father to quirk his eyebrow at her in amusement, but he allowed her to do so, even though her boots were slightly muddy. Deep in her novel, Sam dragged herself out of it as her father asked her a question that gave her pause.

"Sam darling, do you know why I named you Samantha?" he inquired, his sharp blue eyes holding his daughter's.

Laying her book down on her propped up knees, Sam responded,

"No Daddy, I don't. Why did you call me Samantha?" A puzzled yet interested light crept into her eyes as she gently replied, raising an eyebrow slightly at him.

"I called you Samantha, my dear," he explained affectionately,

"because it means "Heard by God" and your nickname Sam, means "God Leads" in Hebrew, and is a derivative of the name Samuel." Tears shimmered in his eyes as he looked his feisty, uncontrollable girl, who glanced over at him with confusion shining in her face.

Knitting her brow, Sam asked,

"Daddy, why are you telling me this?" she was sure she'd never heard anything like this before, and it startled her. Since when did God play any important part in her life? He never had so far, and frankly she preferred it that way. A look of pain crossed over her father's features as he realised his daughter's resistance to him trying to convey to her his faith, for some inexplicable reason he knew he had to tell her – before it was too late. He decided to fall back upon her nickname as he attempted to explain it to her.

"Samwise," he continued with a smile, ambling over to where his daughter sat on the couch, he placed one large calloused hand under her chin, lifting it so that she was looking into his eyes. Sam defiantly tried to pull away, but her father's touch restrained her, and she forced herself to glance up into his sad light blue eyes.

"You must understand – I called you "Simple" after Tolkien's character because you are my simple and complex girl, and every day I pray that you might one day come fully into the knowledge of your Heavenly Father that loves you far more than I could love you. "

The girl forcefully snapped her head away from her father's loving touch, glaring at him scornfully, her dark blue eyes hard as granite; causing her father's heart to lurch as he regarded his baby girl with a mixture of stricken bemusement and sorrow. Taking her book up again, Sam muttered to herself,

_Sheesh! Who cares about God, what has He ever done for me? Life is much better without His intrusions – _At that moment, a tiny voice countered the loud angry once inside her head with a gentle,

_You're intrigued by Him though, aren't you? _To which her angry voice shot back,

_Holy hell! Goddamn it! I am not intrigued by Him, so shut it. _This caused her gentle voice to retort simply,

_But you __**are**__, aren't you? _Sam groaned inwardly, stifling the voices in her head, and just then noticed her father pulling on his boots, mackintosh, and throwing on his matching trench coat.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" she asked in disbelief. He raised his graying head for a moment, glancing at her tenderly before replying,

"I'm going out to take a walk and pray, darling."

Sam's face twisted with puzzled astonishment at the tenderness in his voice.

"So," she began slowly, testing the waters.

"You're not angry with me, Daddy?"

He gave her a brief nod, and then opened the door, going out into the street, leaving his daughter bemused and alone.

…

Sam followed him to the door, gripping the cold brass handle as she watched him stride out onto the dark gray pavement alongside their flat, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed downward, as if in sorrow, but the girl could sense he was instead praying. Mentally yelling at herself, the petite young woman struggled to take off her boots. Finally succeeding, she threw them down on the floor against the coat-hanger belligerently.

"Darn, darn, darn!" Frank's sister exclaimed bitterly, gazing out of the window for one last glimpse of her departing father, but he had vanished around the corner. Sam grabbed the closest thing nearby – a vase – and tossed it to the floor, scattering pieces of glass all over the wooden foyer. Tears of angry regret streaming down her cheeks, Sam then went to fetch the broom. Drawing the broom over the floor again and again lent a soothing restoration to her spirit, enough that when the floor was set to rights once more, she returned back to her couch, picked up _The Fellowship of the Ring _from where it has fallen beside the couch in her haste to catch a look at her father as he left; plopping down in the couch, she resumed her perusal of the exciting novel. Enamored of the words and the beautiful, heartbreaking story, she silently began to mouth the words she was reading,

"''What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature when he had the chance!''"

"'Pity? It was pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the ring so. With pity.

"'I am sorry,' said Frodo. 'But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.'

'You have not seen him' Gandalf broke in.

'No, and I don't want to.' Said Frodo. 'I can't understand you. Do you mean to say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on after all those horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy. He deserves death.

'Deserves it!' (Sam read aloud) 'I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends…." **[1] **

**BOOM**! Abruptly, the girl sat up on the couch, swinging her legs over the side of it as she reacted to the sound. Curious, she stood up, crossing to the window. Her book fell to the carpet with a soft thud but she didn't notice, being too enraptured by the dark cloud outside her window.

**BANG**! Sam flinched at the sound as she crouched at the windowsill, peering out of it. Her eyes widened as she perceived flumes of smoke rising up from the edges of the city, transforming the sky into a miasma of blood, concealing the sun's light, causing the city of London to be wreathed in semi-darkness.

**BOOM**! A bomb went off again. The girl's heart skipped a beat in terror as she fell back from the windowsill in horrified shock. Scrabbling to her knees, one single thought rose above it all,

_Daddy is out there – in that. I must find him! Oh God oh God oh God… _

Stumbling upright, Sam hastened over to where her combat boots lay on the floor, hurriedly pulling them on as she checked her pockets to make sure all her necessary items were there; mobile (which had been vibrating stolidly for some time, but Sam hadn't realised it) the new book she'd found, and finally, she replaced _The Fellowship _back into her right coat pocket. Glancing around to make sure that everything in the flat was secure, Sam forcefully grasped the handle of the door, pulling it open as she dashed out in the street.

"Samantha Howard!" a voice called from the flat directly above her and her father's. It was Mrs Williams, who had occasionally watched her and Frank when they were younger. Straining her eyes, Sam could just make out the soft glow of the telly in Mrs Williams' window.

"Sam Howard!" she called down again as the dark-haired lass angrily pushed her bangs out her vision.

"Don't go out into that; it's far too dangerous!"

"I must!" Sam retorted, her eyes flashing indignantly.

"Daddy's out here, I have to find him!"

"But there are riots happening, Sam don't go!" Mrs Williams pleaded, but her voice was drowned out by the wind as the girl dashed forward in the main direction of the thoroughfare that was one of the world's greatest metropolitan centers.

**BANG**! Echoed through the winding flats of Camberwell up to where Sam had stopped short at the zebra crossing, her face blank with astonished disbelief mingled with terror as she witnessed the hundreds of people escaping from London; there were businessmen, hurrying by with their important office files in cases, families with children clutching at their parents' arms for comfort as they attempted to hold their heads above the roiling ocean of terrified Londoners. Sam cast a brief cursory glance over the people in a crush to escape, finding to some surprise, here and there, the intermittent familiar face amidst the rabble of Londoners – there was that bartender Matthias, his face twisted in confusion as he fingered his apron nervously; one of her schoolteachers from Elementary, huddling together with one of her instructors from Year 6. Gritting her teeth in a scowl, Sam glanced around the crowd once more. But there was no sign of her father anywhere in the teeming multitude.

**BOOM**! Another bomb sounded, propelling the rabble in front of her to flee forward, dragging frightened children along with them, as others carried small valuables. Finding an open space to slip into amid the claustrophobic amount of humanity pressed together in an attempt to survive, Sam took her chance, darting into the rabble. One person caught the edge of her sleeve, but she shrugged him off, hurrying off into the middle of the terrified fugitives, her eye open to a spot that could lead her out of the rabble.

Sam tried to close her ears to the boom that meant another bomb was going off, but this venture failed. The bomb also caused the sea of evacuees to combine into one large group, nearly overwhelming the teenager as she attempted to keep afloat. Gasping for breath, she attempted to dash out of it, only to be knocked over by someone too alarmed by the events to care about the girl he'd just accidentally caused to fall to the ground. Sam's pockets, as usual never buttoned, emptied themselves of their contents. Her mobile skidded across the street into the middle of the road, while the books she'd been carrying with her flopped into the path of the frustrated, totally confused people trying to escape their city.

Her breath knocked out of her, Sam could only watch helplessly as her mobile (ringing again intensely) was stomped on by a stout, heavy member of the stampede – a butcher rushing from his home to the river – and then she noticed ripped out papers blowing hazily in the wind created by the enormous group of people. Raising her brown head wearily, a bruise already beginning to darken her left cheek, she gasped in dismay as realisation struck her like the force of a clout; those were_ her _ripped pages, scraps from her beloved _Lord of the Rings _cavorting aimlessly in the wind. Clambering back onto her hands and knees, she snatched at a couple pages, only for them to slip though her fingers like precious coins falling into an abyss.

Fighting to get back on her feet without being bowled over by the stampede, the young woman raised her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. Squaring her shoulders defiantly, she began to lope through the tense crowd, her motions swift and tempered by anxiety. More and more swarms of people were frantically making their way out of the city as Sam wended her route through the panicky horde until she emerged into a clearer area. Once free from the grip of the throngs hurrying away from London, Sam halted abruptly as she gazed with gradually growing horror at the fires sweeping throughout the houses of London with a fierce vengeance to their lights. To her dazed eyes, the fire appeared to smile at her with evil intent.

Backing away, Sam started to run back in the direction of the throng of evacuees heading west out of Greater London in a last-ditch effort to find solace away from the City. Numbly, the teenage girl stared mournfully after the departing multitude, feeling no desire to follow – yet, as her father was still missing and she knew there was an investigation to undergo here before she even thought of returning home – that is, if her flat was even still standing…

Leaving the avidly ravenous fires scavenging the City in her wake, Sam slowly marched in the general direction of the Houses of Parliament; despite how sore her feet were feeling and how earnestly she longed to just find a safe hollow in between the walls of a house to rest. But on her way to the Parliament House, Sam was roughly apprehended by a deserting soldier.

"You there! Girl! Where are you going?"

"To the Houses of Parliament! I need help finding my father!" Sam replied, fighting back her sobs.

"Surely someone can help me there?" she inquired, rubbing the tears back into her eyes defiantly.

The soldier wasted no words. Instead of explaining, he grabbed her hand tightly (Sam resisted, but to no avail) and lead her away from the Houses of Parliament.

Once they were a safe distance away from the lynch mob he knew was transpiring at the moment, he released the girl, who glared at him with intense dislike.

"What is going on?" she demanded, as she grasped his collar, pulling him close to her, tears shining on her cheeks.

"Tell me! You know; I can tell it."

One glance at the girl's face warned him that she brooked with no funny business, so her reluctantly admitted to her, thinking at the back of his mind how lovely she appeared for only being about fourteen. (If Sam had known this, she would have slapped him).

"Listen, girl! You can't go back there, it's not safe… our own army is bombing the City. Right at the moment –"

But Sam interrupted.

"What are the places England's own army has bombed? "

The deserter's face twisted with regret as he began to list off the names of the buildings.

"The banking system, Canada Square, Buckingham Palace, Whitehall, the City..." Giving her a regretful glance, he added mournfully, "Hundreds of people have died..."

"No!" Sam cried out, unwilling to believe that England's own army had turned against its own people. Her own _brother_ was in that army! This couldn't be happening; it had to be a lie. But even as she attempted to trust the lie, the unreality of the reality of witnessing the frantic flee of the escapees, England's beautiful buildings set aflame, and, most of all, the fact that her father was even now, still missing and the location of her brother unknown stared her in the face.

Sending the deserter one last parting glare, Sam turned her weary feet back towards Camberwell. Night was falling, dappling the sky with hues of violet, purple and pink, but Sam was too deep in her thoughts to pay attention to the beauty splashing the sky as if it were an artist's canvas being limned before her very eyes. Finding a house still standing amongst the burning and burned residences of her formerly glorious City, the girl sank to the ground inside one of the recesses in the wall, laid her head upon knees, and tried, and failed, not to cry.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

July 29th, 2019 The First Day After

The next morning, Sam stumbled to her feet, intent on returning to Camberwell. Maybe, just maybe, her heart whispered, her father was fine and was safe at the flat waiting for her! This thought caused her to perk up her head a little as she carefully walked through the smoldering residences that were still sparkling with embers in the murky grayness of the early dawn. Drawing in a deep breath, Sam brushed her stringy bangs out of her face again as she staggered in the direction of her suburb.

As she passed by the former buildings that had stood proudly together as that hardy, beautiful warrior woman London, she attempted to keep her hopes up. Retracing her steps, Sam noticed charred timbers of houses standing in a row like so many skeletons, bereft of all warmth. The City was so emptily devoid of voices – whether melding in laughter, or simple chats, or just calling kids in to dinner – that Sam glanced around, partially in fear, hoping to see another person like herself, only to find no one.

Her boot scuffed against the crossing point in Camberwell, as Sam halted beside the traffic lights. Clutching at the metal lamp-post, Sam felt her knees bend underneath her. From a far distance away, she seemed to hear someone calling her name. As her eyelids closed, she dreamily hoped that it was her father, returning to take her home.

She awoke in a four-poster bed, from those ancient days back in the eighteenth century. On her chest lay an ivory white coverlet. Rubbing her eyes unsteadily, Sam groaned, trying to sit up, only to find that her body was too fatigued to attempt to do anything but lay still. _Oh Daddy, please be here. _

"Sam Howard," a voice called from the other room. Raising her head, Sam realised that she was at her neighbor's, the Williams, from the flat directly above hers and her father's.

"Hello, dearie," she continued, crossing over to the bed. Her soft brown eyes twinkled with motherly concern as she plumped up the pillows for the daughter of her husband's best friend. Sam let out a small sign that devolved into a slight moan as memories of terrified evacuees, buildings set afire, and the mad world that now existed outside the window resurrected in her unwilling brain. Mrs Williams appeared to sense the dismay emanating from within the girl as she reached out, grasping her hand affectionately. Sam allowed a half-smile to slip through the cracks of her perfectly composed face.

"Sam," Mrs Williams began hesitantly as she noticed two tears slowly trail themselves down the young woman's visage,

"just rest for now. If you need anything, call me – I'll be in the other room."

Pulling away from the bed, Mrs Williams went outside into the corridor, closing the door gently behind her. Once removed from Sam's view, she glanced back into the room, her mouth turned down in a worried frown before she crossed over into the main room where her husband sat disconsolately in his armchair. Once Mrs Williams had left, Sam swung her legs over the side of the bed, her eyes darkening with defiant intent. Tiptoeing over to the door, she placed her ear against it, straining to make out the conversation going on between the Williams at the moment.

"The poor girl," she heard Mrs Williams say indistinctly.

"Aye," Mr Williams agreed, with a note of hesitation in his voice that alerted her to the fact that he was reluctant to admit it.

"She went out there yesterday to find her father…" Mrs Williams continued. She trailed off as her husband glanced sharply at her.

"Hundreds of people have died since our own army has turned against us!" Mr Williams exclaimed, tears brimming in his eyes.

"But Sam's father could still be alive…" Mrs Williams protested as her husband stood to his feet, gathering her into his arms as her shoulders began to shake with sobs.

Tears streamed down Mr Williams' face,

"No, my dear," he murmured. "I hate to say this, but there is little hope that Christopher Howard survived the massacre that went on yesterday…"

Eavesdropping from behind her door, Sam collapsed onto the lacquered wooden floor, shouting silently,

"No, no, no, no, no," as tears of grief mingled with rage trickled down her thin cheekbones.

Mrs Williams shook herself free from her husband's grasp as she noticed the faint noises resembling sobs sliding under the door of Sam's bedroom. Directing a reproachful glance at her husband, she walked over to the door, knocking lightly on it. There was no response from within. Mrs Williams knocked more urgently, but still there was no reply. Swinging the door open, it slid out in a triangle pointing straight at Sam, who sat on the bed, her shoulders trembling as she sought to regain control.

Crossing over to her, Mrs Williams gathered the young woman into her arms, rocking her back and forth until her sobs quieted; combing her fingers through her short unruly hair, easing her gently into a restless sleep that really brought her no solace. Her father was _dead _– dead! – Frank was a member of the battalion that had assaulted London, and in the deep recesses of her mind, Sam realised fully how alone she truly was, and this knowledge deepened her pain all the more.

Mrs Williams held her, murmuring,

"Don't worry, dearie, I'm here, I'm here."

Sam nestled her head against the older woman's chest with a sigh as Mrs Williams stroked her hair rhythmically.

"Mrs Williams?" she asked quietly.

"Yes dear."

"Do you think Frank is all right?"

"No one knows for sure, dearie."

"What do you call this, this madness?" Sam exclaimed.

"Some people call it 'The Beginning of the End' dearest," Mrs Williams explained.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x

"The Beginning of the End," Sam reiterated, her words echoing through the stillness as every creature in the herd hung intently on her every statement.

"And it was. I didn't see or hear from Frank again until August 23rd of that year."

Fingertips of light appeared in the east over the ridge of mountains that protected the Meltdown Valley, falling onto Sam's face. Two tears glistened on her cheeks. The rest of the group was silent, knowing that the memories she had just surfaced were indubitably arduous for her to bring up again.

"That's tough," Crash muttered brusquely as Mark (who had been sitting at Terry's feet) crawled up onto Sam's lap. He placed his paws on her shoulders, licking her tears away. Sam fondled his scruff affectionately as he did so. Manny regarded her with a mournful light in his expression, as Sam's memories of the horror that she had undergone resonated with his experience losing his first mate and their child in their secluded hollow the day the humans arrived.

_How did Sam ever get through this? _He pondered, knowing full well that he had merely headed north to die; only to be found instead by a baby, a tiger and sloth, and their friendship was his means for living again.

Arching an eyebrow, Manny inquired,

"Sam, how did you get through that?"

The young woman's glance darted though the herd, and then she winked at Manny, hinting at that there was more to her story, but Terry interrupted.

"Boss," he addressed the mammoth,"we should probably get a move on now. After all, we need to get to Half-Peak before Soto does."

Manny rolled his eyes as he took a step forward, causing the ground to tremble slightly underneath him. He extended his trunk to Ellie, who grasped it lovingly. Peaches lay asleep on the ground between them.

The mate of Frank, Claire, assisted her son, Ben to his feet. Ben had fallen into slumber halfway through his aunt's story; something that had relieved Claire, as she thought that some parts of it was far too intense for twelve-year-old boy. On the other hand, it did give her some useful insight into her sister-in-law's experiences during the Troubles. She looked over at Sam, sending her a quick, comforting smile.

Manny turned back to Sam, his question lingering in his mouth.

"Sam, what happened to Frank?"

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

End of Chapter One

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you Trev for letting me borrow your wonderful characters! It's going to be a fun ride writing this story! Hope you like your birthday present! :D **

**Credit goes to FABCHICKXO for originating the "Campfire Stories" framing device, which I am employing to some extent in this fic. :-) **

**[1] refers to one of my most favorites passages from _The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, _by J.R.R Tolkien.  
**


	2. Joy Cometh in the Morning

Destiny

**I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of **_**Lost in Time**_** belong to Trev. **

_These two chapters being updated is actually one chapter cut into two parts for readability, and in fact, in the draft, it actually ended up with a whopping 10, 264 words. :P _

_Therefore, Trev, I win this round, however technically :P ;) And anywho, onto the story! _

_xxxxx_

_Music for the Troubles "sequences" (for this chapter) _

First Part: www . youtube www . / watch? v=IDTciJgJDwc&feature=related _"Whispering Winds" from_ **The Land Before Time**, _play from 0:00 to 2:12 for the part where Sam watches the Williams leave and then goes into the house. _

Second Part: htt www . youtube watch? v=mZlVaAMsoM8&feature=rec-LGOUT-exp_fresh+div-1r-41-HM _(Immediate Music's Believe)_ _This is to be played from from middle of the "Harsh Encounters" Trouble flashback. _

Third Part: htt www . youtube watch?v=1LkFK4CPSAY _(Immediate Music's Salvation) This piece corresponds with the August 26th Troubles flashback where Sam finds the Bible - and finds hope. _

_Also, I feel I must add, (though I hope you all know this already) just take out the spaces and you can get to the corresponding pieces for the sequences, thank you. :)  
_

_And I believe that is all for this chapter, besides mea culpa for taking so long with these updates! I just wanted the story to be amazing, especially for you, Trev! :-) Hope you all like these chapters!  
_

* * *

"Manny," Sam countered as the group began to gather their supplies together again for another day of traveling. "Not now. I'll tell what become of Frank and me later this evening, okay?" She bestowed upon him a sparkling smile, and once again Manny was intrigued as to what so buoyed her that she could love, laugh, and smile vibrantly despite the loss of her beloved father in the Troubles. It was a mystery he was eager to investigate further, and he could tell her actions had been totally different from how he responded to the murder of his family, and how long it took him to forgive the humans.

Ellie nudged their daughter with her trunk, urging Peaches to get up as she exchanged an eyebrow lift with Manny. The bull mammoth grinned mischievously at his mate, excited to find that she was as puzzled by Sam (and Terry as well) as he was. Crash and Eddie jumped into the air and rolled themselves onto his tusks, dangling there as it they were swings. The two brothers glanced at Sam and Terry, holding hands as the group began to move, and winked at each other. Charlie was letting Ben ride piggyback on his shoulders, as Nigel trailed behind holding a bag with the guns owned by Terry and Charlie, and Claire carried the walkie-talkies, no doubt eager for another communication from her mate again.

Manny, noticing he was about to be left behind, gently slipped his trunk under Peaches, curving his trunk so that it resembled a cushion. Peaches sighed peacefully in her sleep (she was always very difficult to wake up in the morning) as he began to lumber along in the general direction that the others were taking. The travelers slowly began to walk in the direction of the dormant volcano in the distance, all of them lost in their own thoughts as Sam's story crept into their souls, forever etching its presence as one of their memories. Only Hudson, his nose to the ground as he scouted ahead of the unified group, was not bemused or bewildered or stunned by the story that they all had just heard – though in reality, it seemed to the herd members that they had actually _witnessed _the destruction along with Sam as she relived those painful recollections.

Manny let his mate take Peaches from him, beginning to trail after the others. Her steps were slow, hesitant. Crossing to her side, Manny rubbed his face soothingly against hers, knowing they were both reeling from the impact the story had. Mark ambled behind the American soldier and Sam, glancing up at the woman from time to time with an expression of baffled pain on his face. Manfred noticed this out of the corner of his eye as he brought up the rear, acting as protection for the back.

Lowering his head so that no one could see his face, he allowed two small tears to drip through his fur. What Sam had undergone that day was horrific, and only he could possibly grasp the depth of her feelings as everything was taken from her – her father, her simple life, even her brother had been separated from her.

_I wonder how she made it through that_, Manny pondered. _I'll bet it wasn't easy for her. _

Ellie cradled Peaches protectively against her as she lumbered forward ahead of her mate. The images of the destruction of the ancient beautiful city Sam described so affectionately were still pealing through her mind.

_How awful! _The she-moth exclaimed to herself, gazing down at her just-awakening child. _I hope nothing like that ever happens again. From what Sam told us, the world turned mad that day. I hope that it won't happen here. _

Crash and Eddie had both transferred themselves from Ellie's tusks to Manny's as the two mammoths had decided the carrying arrangements for their daughter that morning. Crash was very subdued, Manny noticed. His small round head hung down in an attitude of consternation mingled with stunned shock; an expression rarely seen on the lively possum's visage.

Manny raised his head to see the jagged line of Half-Peak standing stark against the pale sky, but knew they were not anywhere close to that place that had forever changed his life and the tiger's and the sloth's. Biting back a melancholy sigh, Manny pressed onward, failing to notice that Crash, already bored, had taken out his pea-shooter, tossing pebbles in his brother's direction. Eddie, though being pelted continually by his brother, did not complain until one large pebble hit him solidly on the upper part of his small skull, causing him to take drastic action.

A volley of pebbles rained in Crash's direction as he raised his head in an attempt to block the missiles being thrown at him by his brother. Ellie, walking in the middle with Peaches at her side, glanced back at her mate. Her eyes widened as she took in the chaos that Manny, pensively thinking, was oblivious to. Casting her daughter a stern glance that meant "stay put", the she-mammoth stalked over to her mate and her brothers, irritation oozing from her every step. Her green eyes narrowed as she stared challengingly into the bull mammoth's face, abruptly shaking him out of his pensive reverie.

"Ellie!" Manny exclaimed, his eyes taking on a surprised expression as he realised how annoyed his mate was. But at the moment, Ellie was not looking at him; instead her glance was directed at her rowdy brothers. They quailed under her glare.

"Uh, hi, Ellie," Crash spoke up, a current of alarm vibrating in his tone.

Eddie's paws loosened on his stick. It began to slip through his fingers as he vainly attempted to grasp it. It fell with a dull thud upon the ground. Ellie eyed Manny with a glint of exasperation in her expression, before removing her brothers from his tusks. She sent a glare in Manny's direction before lumbering back over to where their daughter waited for her, her large back rigid with frustration.

The mammoth leader of the herd bit back on a sigh. Shaking his head, he brought up the rear all alone. His small ears turned sharply to the right and the left as he listened intently for any sign that Soto might be on their trail.

...

Mark wended his way through the various groups that made up the herd right now; he loped under the joined hands of Sam and Terry, slid between the knees of Charlie, who was still carrying Ben on his back, and then around little Peaches' feet, and under Ellie, who trod stolidly along with her brothers perched obediently quiet on her tusks, while Claire sat on her back with the walkie-talkies and other valuables. The she-mammoth had noticed that Frank's mate was weary – and together with a combination of excitement, and the stress of discovering that her husband was still alive – and her steps had slowed until she had slightly fallen behind. Ellie, noticing this, had come up beside her unassumingly and inquired if she would like a lift. Claire had agreed, and now was traveling with Ellie as her companion in the midst of the group. Mark scooted underneath Ellie's large hoofs, nearly avoiding getting squashed by the pachyderm.

Glancing back as he ran through her, Mark slid to a halt as Ellie swiveled her head in his direction.

"Mark, honey, are you all right?" she asked, with a motherly inflection underlying in her tone. A worried light lingered in her eyes; she knew she'd almost stepped on the young sabre.

The adolescent sabre nodded in reply as he replied,

"It's okay, Aunt Ellie, I'm fine, you didn't hurt me! By the way, do you know where Manny is?"

Inclining her finely made visage slightly, Ellie pointed with her trunk towards the rearguard of the herd, where Manny was strolling along at the back with Hudson, chatting amiably with him.

"He's over there, sweetie."

"Thanks," Mark called back, loping over to Manny, his chest bursting with questions. He skidded to a halt as the two older mammals stopped their serious discussion to gaze curiously at him, as if surprised that someone would interrupt them at this important moment.

"Hi," Mark squeaked, looking at Manny briefly with an appraising glance. Manny arched an eyebrow; that expression was so reminiscent of an action Diego himself would make. The saber cub himself idly wondered to himself what Mr. Hudson and his Uncle had been discussing in hushed voices; but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The bull mammoth glanced at the large dire wolf piercingly; he seemed to sense that Mark would like to talk with him. Hudson nodded his head in reply, loping off to trot alongside Sam and Terry at the front.

Mark gazed deferentially up at the large mammoth, his eyes brimming with curiosity. Manny could sometimes be insightful without his mate's guidance, this was one of those times. Extending his trunk, he placed it on Mark's yellow head with avuncular kindness.

"I suppose you'd like to hear more about your uncle Diego…" he began, meeting the cub's green eyes.

"Yeah..." Mark answered slowly in response, a large grin spreading over his face, glad that Manny understood him so well. "Yeah, I'd like to hear more about him, Uncle Manny," as he brushed his head against the tree trunk of the mammoth's leg. A smile tugged at the corner of Manny's mouth, this was the first time since Mark's discovery that the tiger living in their motley crew was his uncle that he had addressed him as such.

Manny gave a low,

"Ahem" and then began to fill Mark in on more of the details of his uncle's life with their unusual family group. Mark listened in awe to the courageous later deeds his uncle had done – saving Manny and Ellie, the bickering lovers, from sending them all down to their deaths when they got stranded on a balancing rock tower, and those times earlier in that story when only Diego and no one else, not even Sid, had encouraged him during the moments when he sincerely believed he was the last of his kind. He spoke to Mark about his uncle's sacrifices that he had made on behalf of him, Sid, and a baby, his courage, his integrity, as Mark listened in awe to the stories about his heroic uncle's exploits.

By the time the stories were over, a dusky twilight had drifted into the Valley as the travelers approached a cave hewn out of the rock out of lower lying foothills surrounding the area near Half-Peak just as rain began to drum into the earth steadily. Gratefully, the herd crept into the cave as the humans attempted to create a fire to warm their soaked bodies. Manny broke the silence as they all gradually warmed, curious about how the human travellers were here, and his accusations cut Claire to the quick. Ellie tried to make him apologise, however, Manny was stubborn, and went off by himself. Hudson followed him, attempting to explain, and for his efforts Manny only angrily shoved him up against a stone wall, shouting in fury against the humans. His accusations reverberated off the shelter of stone, and then, completely ashamed, Manny released his tusks from Hudson's throat, causing the wolf to fall to ground. Manny then stalked off alone, and then Hudson returned to the others, explaining that the mammoth was busy thinking it over and he would go find him again in a bit.

The mammoth walked along the corridors of the stone, and then stopped short by a pool filled with still water. He gazed down into the water as it reflected the austerely starry sky of the night, and watched as the water rippled briefly and his face vanished, only to be replaced by a honey brown cow's face, her trunk intertwined with that of a little russet brown calf at her side. _Manfred_, she whispered to him. _Daddy_, the calf murmured. Manny extended his trunk, attempting to reach them, yearning for their voices to be real as they thinly echoed down all the ages of time to him. _Manfred, _his first mate continued. _Forgive the humans with you… It is not their fault that this happened. We love you, dear… We love you… _

Her voice faded away into nothingness, and Manny drew his trunk back from the water, surprised to find that it was dripping with liquid. Gathering himself, he remembered how brusquely he had treated Hudson, shame sweeping over him. He began to walk back towards the others, and then stopped, and then tried again, but the guilt held him back. Meanwhile, the rest of the herd was anxiously searching for him. Manny returned to them at last, apologising to Claire for his accusations, and then everyone packed up again to head for Glacier Pass and an anticipated reunion with the herd already waiting there.

However, things took a turn for the worse when the first herd was ambushed by an army of ghosts from the future past as they arrived at Fort Halstead. Fortunately, the quick action of Frank, Diego, Buck and Sid provided them enough clearance to dash for cover. Upon realising who it was that had saved them, a veritable hugfest began as Claire joyfully threw herself into her husband's arms whilst Mark tackled his uncle to the ground, exclaiming,

"Uncle Manny told me all about what you've done, Uncle Diego." He bent his head down to give his uncle a lick, his eyes mirroring regret from his outburst several days earlier about his relation to the tiger. Confused, Diego glanced over at Manny, silently asking for an explanation. Manny grinned at him, and then spoke to his friend about Mark's reason for calling him "uncle."

"Buddy, Mark and us learned a few days ago that well, you're his uncle. He was a bit disappointed at first, because Soto had mistreated him because of it..." He glanced up at his friend, meeting his gaze, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Mark was gazing into his uncle's face with something amounting to hero worship, and the sight warmed his heart. "But don't worry, he's okay with it," Manny continued, wanting to take no undue credit for the conveyance of the stories about his friend, as after all it had been because of Mark's own curiosity about his uncle and he was more than happy to oblige him.

In response to Manny's explanation, Diego turned to face the young cub beaming adoringly up at him. He grinned at Mark, grabbing his neck, placing his paws on his head to give him a gently rough noogie as they smiled at each other, relishing being in the presence of the other again. Frank and Terry began to good-naturedly taunt each other, and then Buck reminded them that now that the herds were reunited once more, it was time for a celebration! Both groups trooped inside the compound of Fort Halstead, and immediately began digging into the edibles, including the wine, which Ellie daringly tasted and found to her surprise that she quite liked it. Later, sated with delicious food and the exuberance of just being together again, the two groups began to wind down. Frank and Claire stood together, holding hands, while Ben started to play-wrestle with Mark as Sid cleaned his minigun as Buck supervised him and Diego and Manny fell into a conversation about what had befallen their bands after their separation. In the meantime, Terry lead Sam over to an old and sagging couch, carrying a wine bottle with him, which he gave to her once he had helped her sit down. Sam teased him about this playfully,

"Oh, look at you, you strong soldier man," she began, her eyes sparkling. "Being so courteous and chivalrous to me – you do know some would think that a person like wouldn't have it in it you." She finished, winking at her brother. Terry ignored her mischievous behavior, leaning in close to her after placing the wine bottle on a conveniently placed small table nearby, tilting her head upward so that she was staring into his green eyes.

"You know, my headstrong, lovable Sam that I would die for you, don't you?" he murmured, holding her gaze as he cupped her face in his hands, gently linking his lips with her own for several long moments. Sam received his affection vibrantly, throwing herself into kissing him back. When they finally pulled apart, she replied,

"Oh yes… my Terry, I know you would do that for me – and I would do it for you too."

"Well, then I pray you never have to," Terry responded gruffly, unconsciously reaching for his pistol, his eyes darkening with sudden anger. Nearby Manny and Ellie had been watching the strange interaction between the two with unconcealed interest. Leaning over towards his mate, seeing the two kiss, Manny murmured at her,

"Ellie, what are they doing?"

Ellie raised her shoulders in a shrug,

"I don't know Manny, but it sure looks nice – why don't _we_ try it too?"

Buck smirked at the two mammoths.

"Well, be a darn good 'usband and give it to 'er!" he encouraged Manny, winking at him. Manny shrugged, and then leaned his mouth into Ellie's, and for a moment, they held each other's mouths, kissing each other as best as mammoths could do. Buck grinned.

"Now, that's 'ow you do it!" he went on as Manny and Ellie broke apart, gasping with delight over the sensations the interaction had given them. Feeling slightly bemused, Manny glanced back over at Frank's sister and the American soldier man, noticing that Hudson had moved up next to their couch, and that the half-filled wine bottle that Terry had brought over for his wife was empty now, and Sam was fiddling absently with it, her mind obviously elsewhere even though Terry had placed his arm protectively over her shoulders. He wondered what Sam was thinking, remembering she (and Hudson) hadn't been as excited over the alcoholic beverages as everyone else had been, and the fact puzzled him. He cast a sweeping, cursory glance over the room, noting the overfed appearance of the inhabitants, and decided it was time to come back to the story Sam had began telling everyone a few nights ago.

He strode over to where the woman sat, trailed closely by Ellie, Peaches, and the others, who had seen that Manny was curious about something and were interested in finding it out. Frank and Claire walked over, their hands still intertwined as Mark and Ben gave up their mock-wrestle, ambling over as well. Manny peered down into the face of the dark-haired young woman before him.

"Sam," he began, "If it's not too much to ask, I for one are very curious to hear more of your story."

As Manny mentioned the word "story", a peculiar expression emerged into Frank's eyes – a look of guilt-stricken remorse mingled with sorrow, that winked into his brown eyes and then vanished within the barest of moments, however, Diego, who was standing nearby the couple, caught the pain in his eyes but wisely decided not to refer to it right now, thinking it would be best to let Frank reveal more of himself in time.

James glanced over at Sam encouragingly, nudging her gently with his nose as the woman rubbed his head.

"Come on, Sammy, you can tell it," he supported her, glancing at the other animals with an enigmatic smile. "After all, it seems only right to me that they hear of our God, too, Sammy."

At the word "God", the other animals exchanged befuddled glances with each other: Manny to Ellie, Diego to Buck, Mark to Peaches, and Sid to the possum brothers. Everyone wore the same blank confused expression on their faces, wondering what on earth that strange name meant, as it had virtually no implication for _them_. Hudson allowed a somewhat snarky smile to grace his features.

"Well, we've confused them properly," he noted. "You might as well tell it now so their heads can quit spinning."

Sam took in a deep breath as she raised her head to look up at the assemblage in front of her, and her gaze met her brother's.

_I won't tell it if it will cause you pain, _her eyes said.

_It's fine… _her brother's eyes retorted. _Just as long as you don't bring any of your rubbish about God into it. _

_I can give you no promise about that, _Sam's eyes countered. After that wordless conversation, Sam let out a deep sigh, gathering control of her emotions so as to not let them run away with her as they had done so the last time she had began the story.

"All right," she mussitated, almost to herself as she lifted her head, a joyful light filtering into her dark eyes. "I see you all want more of my story. In that case, my story picks up the day the Williams left Camberwell in search of a life away from our war-torn city, but I refused to go…"

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x**

August 23rd, 2019 Harsh Encounters

Sam stood outside the door of the Williams' flat, glancing down at the travel bags the elderly couple had packed up, lying there in a hurried jumble. Mrs Williams had invited Sam to come with them to escape the gloom of the decaying city of London, especially since they knew that the army – their own army – was approaching steadily day by day, and the food sources were running low, but Sam refused. She looked up as Mrs Williams emerged from the door, a slightly regretful smile on her face. Noticing the young woman standing there defiantly, once again dressed in her longcoat with a recklessly determined light in her eyes told her all she needed to know. Opening her arms wide, she enveloped Sam into one last embrace, blinking away hasty tears.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to my family," Sam whispered into Mrs Williams' traveling coat, her voice breaking as she said 'family'. "But I cannot go with you – to escape. I have some business to attend to here first, and then I may leave our formerly glorious city…and come find you…"

"I understand, dearie," Mrs Williams replied, holding the girl tightly, savoring their last moments together. Mr William stomped out the door, slamming it rather angrily behind him, abruptly ending the moment between the two women. He grabbed the traveling bags in one arm, and then extended the other to his wife. Releasing herself from Sam's embrace, Mrs Williams grasped her husband's hand tightly and gave a brave, trembly smile to him. Mr Williams doffed his hat to Sam, motioned to his wife,

"Come along, Sarah," and then strode off, letting go of his wife's hand as he went below to wait for her in the deserted street.

Mrs Williams folded Sam into a brief hug, whispering to her,

"I'll be praying for you, dear," and then hurried down to join her husband.

_Dammit_, Sam thought indignantly, _I don't need prayer. I can do perfectly fine on my own. God is just a bunch of rubbish, anyway. _She stood on the steps, watching as her former nanny and close friend slipped her arm under her mate's resolutely as they began to walk off into the distance. The young woman ran her fingers through her shortly-cropped hair absently, keeping her eye on the two figures until the horizon swallowed them, making them little dots in the distance as they began their trek, until she could no longer even distinguish their outlines as being visible to her eye. Sam glanced overhead, noting that the sun was now at its zenith before she walked over to the door on her own flat. Placing her hand on the knob, she pushed it open, her eyes seeking the familiar features of the rooms hungrily as she realised how much she had missed her home the days she had lived with the Williams for several weeks after the day the Troubles had begun.

Sam pushed the door open further, causing it to creak slightly on its hinges as she entered the flat, her booted feet treading on the wooden boards of the floor. In the utter stillness of the deserted house, they sounded quite loud, and the sheer emptiness tore at Sam's heart. Turning the corner, she came into the family room. Stopping short, she inspected the swords hanging on the wall: a bayonet from the 1700s and a sabre from America; employed for battle in the Civil War from the 1800s. Her father had collected such swords, relishing the past bound up in them, cherishing them highly, but never as much as his two children.

The young woman let out a sigh as she came to a stop before a painting done in oils of a woolly mammoth, his tusks raised in battle mode as he stood on a tussock of grass, every fiber in his body hinting at his magnificence. Sam smiled up at the picture; it had always been one of her favorites in the house to just let her eyes lazily linger on during rainy days, imagining what it would be like to actually see a mammoth in person, something the biologist in her longed for, it would be such a breakthrough for science. Her gaze drifted upwards, coming to rest on the slender television set on the wall that she and her father rarely ever watched, though sometimes she did tune in for news from the BBC. Frank was the only one who had really liked the television, whereas Sam had preferred books. She remembered occasionally joining him though when he viewed epics from decades ago like _Back to the Future _and _Star Trek_ (The 2009 reboot) and _The Time Machine_ (the 1968 version, not the 2002 version)_ , _but other than those times when Frank used it, the tv set was silent, growing filmy with dust.

Leaving the picture, Sam crossed over to the window, looking outside it. Distant reports from gunshots reverberated to her, and she hung her head wearily as thoughts crowded into her head of her brash, daring brother Frank. She let out a sigh, placing a hand on the window, which surfaced memories of how Frank would tease her by putting his much larger hand over her own, and they would make a game of it to see whose hand could stay atop of the other's while still staying on the pane of the window. _I still don't even know if Frank is alive or dead. _

In her current musing state, Sam began to saunter around the living room area, finally coming to rest upon the couch. She glanced up briefly, and it seemed to her that she momentarily caught a glimpse of her mother and father sitting in the armchair in front of her, her mother perched on her father's lap, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Sam had never really known her mother, but she could imagine her well enough from how her father and brother had spoken of her. The young woman rose to her feet, her mouth open as she silently called out _Mama, Daddy _only for her to reach the armchair and discover it empty as the will-o-wisps figures of her parents fled.

Sam sank to the floor, grasping the soft embroidered fabric of the armchair as if reaching for help as she crossed her arms, letting her face be hidden in their folds as she attempted to conceal her sorrow. A bomb fell outside the window, startling her to her feet as the bang resounded into her ears, reminding her how very much alone she was. She glanced outside, noticing that the sky had grown dark during the time she had spent reconnecting with her home, and tiredly went up to her bed.

Two days later, Sam ventured out of the flat in search of some edibles, edging carefully around the demolished shards of buildings, her eyes filled with sadness as she looked anew at her crumbling city. She headed for the bar that she had been at several weeks prior, if only to investigate whether people where still around or if they had decided to escape for their own good. Pushing the door open, the bell jangled above her, and she glanced appreciatively at how well-stocked the shelves were.

At that moment, the bartender Matthias emerged, his eyes sweeping her up and down admiringly. Sam only noted inwardly that if this man had decided to stay here and try and rebuild, he must have some sort of moxie about him. Taking her hand, he led her over to his food stores, and freely gave her all she wished. Sam thanked him and then departed, only for Matthias to run after her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her so that she faced him. An unsteady smile hovered on his lips, and then leaned down so that he was staring into Sam's eyes. He brought his face up in proximity to hers, shoving his lips onto Sam's. The young woman recoiled as if someone had thrown cold water on her. Reaching for her knife, she pulled away, snarling,

"Get away from me!" Tears began to stream down her face as she threw all her energy into hitting him, however he merely pushed her hands away, kissing her even harder. Sam flailed her arms at his bulk, spilling the groceries he had given to her. "Get away from me," Sam repeated coldly, her body tight with defiance. "I want to do this with someone, someday, all right Matthias? Just … not … you." She paused to stare into his face, with his little, piggish eyes, now stupefied from his hastiness in sating his desire that he longed for with her that she refused to give. Batting him away one last time, Sam gathered her groceries hurriedly, dashing off as fast as she could run back to the sanctuary of her flat.

Sam flung open the door of her flat, throwing the groceries inside and then slamming it behind her, furious tears streaking down her visage, the numbness coursing through her body making her blind to the curious faces of the few brave stragglers who lived in the flats above her. She crumpled to her knees, exhaustion sweeping over her as she hugged her knees close to herself, sobbing. At last spent, she rose to her feet, completely ignoring the provisions she'd brought on the floor as she walked slowly through the corridors of her house, loneliness and pain from Matthias' assault creeping into her bones. Turning the corner, she caught sight of a filmy outline of a woman with clear blue eyes and the prettiest face – it was an image of her mother again, and she extended her arms towards the girl, welcoming her into her protective enclosure. Sam darted forward near the apparition, reaching her arms out to dash into her mother's embrace, only to find she grasped at air. The young woman groaned, cursing under her breath as she pivoted around in a circle. At the far end of the hallway stood her brother, dressed in his army uniform, his facial expression distant.

"Frank!" Sam called out; hoping against hope that it was really him as she dashed over to the specter her mind had created. She reached out her hand, inspecting her face and noticing the beard growing there, but as she did so, the image of her brother faded away as well, and his absence was like a punch in the gut to Sam. Brokenhearted, Sam turned around, her mind numbly directing her to put away her foodstuffs. Grabbing one of the bags, she took it into the kitchen, where she absently put the food away into cupboards. Her composure ratified, Sam went back out into the hallway – and at the end of it, noticed her father, and his arms were open, waiting for her to fall into his embrace. A joyful smile wreathed her visage, and she began to run down the corridor to him, ready to sink into his hug. However, as she reached him, arms extended, eyes glimmering with bliss, he disintegrated into dust before her.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x**

At this moment in the telling of Sam's tale, Manny interrupted, gazing sympathetically at the woman in front of him, who had certainly triumphed in spite of her tribulation.

"I-I can understand what that is like…" He faltered. He glanced at Ellie and Peaches standing before him with a light of near self-reproach in his eyes. "Sam, I-I understand your pain… I experienced the same hallucinations after my first family died – by the hands of hunters – and it drove me so mad that the only thing I thought I could do was go north, opposite the rest of the migration parties, to die." He cast a fond look over at the tiger and the sloth nearby, and they smiled at him in return. He then glanced again at his mate and child, his eyes wistful. Shaking himself, he continued,

"And Ellie, I do it even still – I hope I'm not being disloyal to you and Peaches, but…" he held back a sob. "But I miss them so much!"

Ellie merely leaned her head into Manny's comfortingly, pulling their daughter close to her.

"It's okay, sweetie," she soothed, "I know you, Manny, and you're the most loyal soul a mammoth has ever been given. You're not being disloyal to us, because I know you're not like that…. If you need to still see images of your family because you need their presence in your life, I can understand that."

Sam gazed up into Manny's huge brown eyes, her face wreathed with compassion. Standing to her feet, she crossed over to him, her arms extended toward him. Taking his trunk in her hands, she laid her face against it, and for a moment they stood there, deriving comfort from each other. At last, Manny sighed, pulling his trunk away from Sam. He patted her affectionately on the head, asking,

"And Sam, I'm now more curious than ever about how you made it through your loss. I had my friends to help me, and Pinky, but who did you have?"

Sam grinned, returning to sit next to Terry on the couch. Once she sat down, her husband draped his arm over her shoulder, and she reached up to grab his hand. Winking at Manny, Sam replied,

"Well, Boss, it's quite a story! After my overwrought mind had finally returned me to a semblance of reality, I crept upstairs to my father's bedroom…. Thinking that being near where he had been would ease my sorrow… and so I went up to his bedroom, noticing the reports of the guns and the bombs exploding nearby…and trying to forget them as I went upstairs to bed…"

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x**

August 26th, 2019 Alone, But Not Entirely

Sam kicked off her boots onto the floor as she sat down upon her father's bed, watching the night shadows lengthen across the floor, the hazy red glow of the bombs vaguely mingling with the sunset outside her window, and let out a sigh that was more a huff. Raising her head, her eyes darkened as she remembered her earlier encounter with Matthias and his unwelcome advances towards her, and she writhed in pain and embarrassment all over again. Her mind drifted back then to that terrible day when her world went mad with England's own army turning on its people, and the knowledge that her father had died in the assault. At the thought of her daddy, tears welled up in her eyes again as hopeless yearning rose within her, longing once again for his embrace. With a hasty movement, Sam brushed her hand over her eyes, rubbing her tears away hurriedly, determined not to cry all out. Shaking her head, she glanced down at the floor, noticing and yet not _comprehending _the small, circular table that stood next to the bed, with a rectangular object on it that Sam didn't see. Regaining her composure, she climbed into her father's bed, crawling under the covers, enjoying the faint hint of her father's cologne that still clung to them. Glancing up, she noticed the red glow of the bombs seeping in through the window.

Furious, Sam grabbed a pillow, throwing it over her head as she attempted to drown the thunder of the bombs out. Bunching the pillow over her ears, Sam gasped for air underneath the pillow while memories flitted through her mind, taunting her with their bittersweet nuances as she imagined a slideshow of happy moments with her father: her father hugging her on her seventeenth birthday, her father chatting with Frank in the days when they both got along (reasonably) well, her father blinking away tears as he looked at a framed photo of her mother before pulling Sam close to tell her about the woman who he had loved and who had given him two magnificent children, who he knew would go on to do great things. At that last memory, Sam's resolve crumbled. Bursting into tears, she dug herself deeper under the pillow, although she loosened it a bit to let some air in before she succumbed to her grief.

At last, merciful unconsciousness closed in on her, and Sam, cradling the pillow in her arms, finally slept... a peaceful, dreamless sleep, untainted by memories of the past. Outside her window, the roar of the bombs began to die down, ultimately fading away into nothingness as the crescent moon peaked its nadir before leaving the sky in preparation for his sister the sun. Tentative pinpoints of light from the east signaled her entrance, as she gently extended her fingers into the air, imperiously, slowly beginning to quietly dispel the vestiges of the darkness as her hands extended, shooting slivers of rays of the glowing yellow orb that was herself into the atmosphere, her radiance brushing softly against Sam's window before her fingers crept in, turning the air around her grey as the darkness of the night began to lift fully, bringing colours of light pinks, oranges, and soft reds past the horizon as she painted the early morning.

Sweeping along in her course, she halted momentarily; her arm reaching past the window of Sam's flat into where she slept on the bed, touching her eyelids gently with pervasive light, causing the young woman to groan and stir on the divan, her hand flailing against the light. As she resisted the sun's intrusions on her pleasant sleep, Sam felt her hand come into contact with a thick, rectangular, tatty old blue book. Groggily, Sam raised her head, running her fingers over the book curiously as the light at dawn streamed through the window, illuminating the gold leaf embossed words on the cover in the lower right corner: _Christopher Howard. _

The young woman's eyes widened as she realised who the book belonged to, interest pulsing through her as she picked it up, absently noticing the words _Holy Bible _leaping out at her as she brought it over to the bed, depositing it somewhat carelessly onto it as the burgeoning rays of early dawn crept into the room, gradually filling the dark recesses with light as the book fell open to a passage, highlighted in blue highlighter that looked unfamiliar to the girl. Bending her head over it, she prepared to read, if only out of curiosity and because the book had been her father's. Rays of sunlight poured through her window, illuminating the passage for her:_ I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. _On the page directly under the words, was a grayish blot that crinkled the paper slightly. Sam wondered briefly what it was, and then dismissed it as being rain, and then she noticed some words scribbled into the margins of the text: the names "Frank" and "Sam", and then realised, with a pang of regret, that her father had most likely been crying when he had read these words that he had highlighted. Ashamed of the guiltiness plaguing her at that realisation, Sam shoved it away, finding something to nitpick at in the text – the irritatingly blatant declaration of the "truth" mentioned in it.

_What's the truth, anyway? _Sam scoffed, leafing through the book idly, _I make my own truth – I don't need anyone to determine it for me! _

As she was thinking this, the book trembled in her fingers as her eyes caught another blue highlighted passage – this one in the book of Isaiah.

_Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! _

_Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. _

_Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour on what does not satisfy? _

_Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. _

Despite her aversion to the text, Sam had to admit she was captivated. The words spoke to her, piercing her in her inmost soul and spirit. Flipping through the pages again, hungrily seeking out highlighted passages, Sam came across another series of highlighted words, this time in a yellow pen, and they were being spoken by a man called Jesus the Christ in a book of this … Bible called the Gospel of John. Jesus's words echoed throughout the eons of time, demarcated in red ink (something that puzzled Sam. She only learned later that it was that colour to call to mind the sacrifice the Man had performed on the world's behalf by submitting to his Father's will at the cross for the salvation of mankind) which stood out against the ordinary black ink the other utterances on the page: _Therefore Jesus said again, "Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who have come before are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. I am the gate, whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. _

_Have life? _Sam wondered. _Have it to the full? I have life already, thank you very much! I don't need anyone to save me, I can save myself. _

_Can you? _Another voice in Sam's head whispered. _Are you really sure about that? Read more… _

_What if I don't want to? _Sam protested to the small, still voice. _What if I think this is all just a pack of lies? _

_Oh, Hephzibah, _the still, small voice continued. _Don't' you see how much I love you? Read on. _

A bit perturbed that someone appeared to be speaking to her, Sam made a motion as if to close the book, however, the highlighted words drew her in.

_I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired man and cares nothing for the sheep. _

_I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me – just as my Father knows me and I know the Father – and I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep not of this sheep pen. I must bring them too. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd. The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life – only to take it up again. _

_This man laid down his life and rose again? Is that what He's saying? _Sam thought as she mulled over the words. _Does that mean since Daddy believed in Him … he will… he will have that as well? _

And, from the far recesses of her memory, the young woman could indistinctly recall her father mentioning, as he embraced her soundly, that his hope was that he would one day live again with his Lord in His kingdom, something Sam had ignored as being the irrational thought process of an old man. However, it now appeared that his hope was indeed real and true; and for some indescribable reason, Sam longed to cling to that expectation as well.

She bent her head over the volume, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered,

"Oh God," (not even realising she was addressing the One that contained her hope), "Oh God… I want that hope too…"

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x**

End of Chapter Two **  
**

* * *

**Oh my word, I am so sorry this chapter is so long. Rest assured, the third chapter is shorter - but still longish! **

**Review?  
**


	3. East of Eden

Destiny

**I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of **_**Lost in Time**_** belong to Trev. **

First Part: htt www . youtube watch?v=bHPYOcgde98&feature=related _(Immediate Music's Lacrimosa {Choir}) This is for the part where Sam is reading the Bible more and then girds herself with the sword, but the part with her dream is this one, _

Second Part: htt www . youtube watch? v=d6nN-t87EN8&feature=related _(Immediate Music's Epicon, from 0:00 to 0:37. ;) _

Third Part: htt www . youtube watch?v=Q2p_X1g-z5w&feature=related _(Immediate Music's Liberation! [How fitting... considering the next installment ;) yes, that's looking at you, Trev ;)] This part is to be played from 0:00 to 0:33 minutes for the moment when Terry arrives. _

_Decides to hang a lampshade: Is it just me, or am I trying to write a movie with words? :P _

_And please remember that while reading these two chapters, once again, it is one whole HUUUUUUUUUUUGE chapter split into half for readability. Savvy, my readers? ^^  
_

* * *

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x  
**

As Sam's voice faded, she noticed that the others in their group had scattered off into little circles, Sid was over discussing some element of the story with Buck, while Manny hissed at Ellie,

"Ellie, what's a book?" He paused, thinking it over, and then went on, puzzled. "What's a Bible?"

Ellie let out an embarrassed grin, nudging her mate playfully.

"I don't know what it is, big guy," she teased. "Why don't you ask James or Sam? I bet they know."

As Manny and Ellie were deep in their discussion, Sid and Buck were arguing over the fact that Sam had been treated unfairly by Matthias.

"How could he do that to her?" Sid exploded, crossing his arms defiantly as he glowered at Buck.

"Well, don't take offense at me for it!" Buck countered as they two began to wrestle on the floor to the amusement of the others.

Diego glanced up, ignoring the fact that Mark had buried his head into his shoulders, and his gaze meet Frank's. The man appeared to be uncomfortable, causing Diego to rise to his feet, wondering if he could help him in any way. At that moment, Mark spoke up slowly, his question obviously something he had taken seriously and that was bothering him,

"What's a highlighter?"

As the rest of the group laughed in delight at the cub's inquiry as Sam began to explain what it was, Diego made his way over to Frank, concern in his eyes.

"Hey, Frank," he began. "What's the matter? Didn't you like the story?"

"It's just ridiculous twaddle talk," Frank snapped. "There's no use in it for _me_ – if Sammy wants to believe it, she can, but I refuse to, and you can mind your own business about it, Diego."

At his brusque tone, Diego flinched inwardly, keeping his green eyes steady as he turned his head away as if rebuffed. Noticing his tiger friend's response, Frank was immediately contrite.

"Look, Diego," he went on gruffly as he bent down so that he was looking into the sabre's face. "I just don't need that twaddle my sister believes with her irrational belief system, ugh." Taking the sabre's paw, he mussitated,

"I'm sorry for speaking to you so curtly about it – what do you know? – can you forgive me?"

"Of course," Diego replied, sincerity glimmering in his eyes.

Over back at the mammoths, Manny was still puzzled by what a book was, and Ellie was not helping him out.

"Just ask Sam," she urged. "Maybe she can show you it, and then continue her story!"

"Oh, all right," Manny conceded, walking over to Sam, who was still involved in making the concept of a "highlighter" clear to Mark. The mammoth cleared his throat, interrupting the delineation of such foreign Twenty First Century items with his question,

"Sam, could you please show us all what a book is like?"

Ellie came up beside her mate, nudging him playfully, amending his question,

"We'd really love to see what one is, Sam…. We haven't ever seen a book before."

Hudson winked at Sam, muttering under his breath to her,

"You might as well show them the book you found, Sammy."

Sam nodded in response, slipping her hand into her jacket and then pulling out a small, rectangular shape with little squiggles on it that read "Book of Common Prayer," that caused Manny to feel dizzy just looking at them.

"Uh..." he muttered, inspecting the squiggles more closely, "uh... What are those?" as he tapped his trunk on the marks on the front of the beautifully embossed volume. Sam grinned at him,

"Those are called _words_, Manny."

"Oh..." Manny responded, still lost. Changing tack, he abruptly asked the young woman another question,

"Sam, what happened to Frank – and you, after you had that experience with … God, what happened after?"

The dark-haired woman stared up into Manny's eyes probingly as she teased,

"So, Boss, I guess you want to hear my last little segment before everyone goes to bed?"

"Oh yes please!" Everyone (except Frank) chorused in response.

Sam glanced down at the little book she held in her hand, inhaling the crispiness of the paper as it crinkled in her fingers. It brought her back to those days when she had first rediscovered her father's bible.

"All right," she began. "After I had that encounter with Daddy's Bible that morning, something changed within me…"

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x  
**

August 27th, 2019

The rays of the sun slanted through the window, falling upon the girl who sat upon the bed, hunched over the small bible, hungrily perusing the words that spoke of comfort, love, and peace to her aching heart. Stopping momentarily, she darted down the stairs to get a quick drink of water, and then hurried back up the open new international translation lying on the sheets, waiting for her to come back to it.

_I never realised I was so thirsty before in my life, _Sam exclaimed inwardly. _This book, which I have expressed hatred for in my earlier years, turns out to be the only thing that can help me live again... _

Climbing back onto the bed, she leafed through the pages, seeking out the passages that had been highlighted by her father, salivating over the morsels of wisdom he had garnered and kept safe for her. As she read and read and read, the sun reached its zenith in the sky, holding its course there until the sphere of the earth's rotation compelled it sink below the horizon, completely unbeknownst to the young woman crouched over her father's volume of this ancient book, that she had now claimed for her own, because of his guidance that had gently driven her to this very place, in the arms of a Father greater than her own. Finally, she raised her head, becoming aware of the indigo blue dusk descending over the sky, and she let out a sigh, standing to her feet, preparing to go downstairs. Before she left the room, she cast one last glance at the book lying open on the bed, and then impulsively crossed over to it, picking it up to take it down with her, riffling through it for more highlighted sections as she walked down the steps that lead into the living room.

She turned a switch, making the electric fire in the fireplace light up as she curled up in a chair to continue reading, absently pondering at the back of her mind that if Frank could see her like this, he would most likely be stunned and slightly angry. Sam repressed a groan, idly brushing her bangs out of her face, suddenly overcame with a longing to see her brother again – if he was alive, as she sincerely hoped he was. Exhausted from the long, tiring days she had just had, Sam let her head nod off against the top of the chair, the Bible still open on her lap while she found herself lost in a dream.

...

Bombs and reports of guns reverberated from around her as she opened the door, glancing overhead at the stragglers who lived on her flat. One person was gesturing excitedly off in the distance, and Sam faintly caught the words,

"They're here! The UN is here!"

Another voice took up the cry,

"They've come to help us take back our city!"

Sam gazed down into the street, noticing hazy outlines of soldiers in the distance. Absentmindedly, she brushed her fingers along her side, and glancing down, found that she wore her father's sabre. Drawing it, she stepped outside, into the light, standing boldly confident whilst the rest of her neighbors watched timidly from their windows as Sam Howard went out to meet the troops. A tall man with his blond hair cut in a crew cut winked at him, friendliness in his eyes, causing Sam to smile back as she placed her hand inside his trustingly as he smiled back at her as he lead her and those remaining on her flat out of the crumbling city of London, to a haven in the southeast called Sevenoaks.

Along the way there, with the tall blond man, Sam noticed a young man off in the distance as the UN soldiers and the remnant of the survivors of the bombing of London crossed the train tracks in an attempt to escape the shrapnel flying at them. She looked more intently at the figure as he came closer, Sam let out a gasp. The man had dark hair, a haggard face with dark blue eyes that flickered guiltily back and forth. His body was tall, lithe, and strong, and with a sudden pang of realisation, Sam (watching from the outside of her dream) understood that her brother was alive.

August 28th, 2019

Abruptly, Sam sat up, blinking her eyes blearily against the early morning sunlight filtering in through the windows, musing over her short yet meaningful dream.

_Frank is alive. _She thought. _Frank is alive! _

Rising to her feet, she placed the bible carefully on a nearby table, and then hurried to the closet to take out her longcoat to put it on. Slipping into her coat, she walked back over to the table, gently placing the book into one of her pockets so that she could have it near her at all times. Turning her head, her gaze landed on the swords hanging, in all their splendour, above her on the wall, and an idea came to her mind. Striding over to where they hung on the wall, she eyed the sabre, admiring the sharpness of its blade and the sophistication of the artistry that showed in how the blade was honed. Determining her choice, Sam climbed up on the couch, pulling the sword from its display. Placing it on the couch, Sam went back upstairs to her father's room, on a quest for a scabbard.

Finding one atop her father's desk, she put on a belt, latching the sheath over it. At last, she put the sabre into the scabbard, and then drew it once, twice, three times, experimenting with how it felt to actually hold it, grateful that her father had insisted that she and Frank take fencing lessons. As she practiced, the yellow orb of the bright circle appeared in the sky, spreading its rays of homey light into the room as Sam laid the sabre on her hip, satisfaction beaming in her eyes. Sheathing it within the scabbard, she darted her hand inside her pocket, her hand coming into contact with her father's book. Pleased that she had it safely in possession, she crossed over to the heavy oak door, effortlessly pulling it open. She stepped outside, the door slightly ajar behind her, her longcoat blowing slightly in the stiff breeze. The sun slanted past the door, illuminating Sam in golden light, making her look like a determined, black-haired angel. Drawing her sabre, Sam whispered, glancing upwards,

"I'm ready."

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x ****  
**

"What happened next?" Mark exclaimed, placing his paws on Sam's legs excitedly.

"It's so interesting you had that dream about finding your brother again," Ellie added, sincerity shining in her green eyes as she smiled at Sam.

Manny seemed to be mulling over some element in the story. Taking the empty wine glass from the table, he inspected it dourly, lost in thought.

"Who's the blond guy?" Diego spoke up from he stood next to Frank and Claire. Manny glanced over appreciatively at his friend,

"That's what I was just about to say, buddy."

Buck looked over at Sam piercingly, halting in his cleaning of his gun for a moment before addressing Sam.

"You s'ould just go a'ead and tell us that last segment of your story, Sam, satisfy us before we take our wine-laden selves off to bed."

He winked at the woman, and then continued,

"And besides, we're all dying of curiosity about the blond buy in your dream…"

"Yes," Manny agreed. "Sam, who is he?"

Sam grinned, standing to her feet, subtly inclining her head at the man beside her in a slight motion the animals all missed as she called out,

"So, you all want to know who he is then?"

All of the animals in the room nodded their heads with the exception of Hudson, who merely glanced meaningfully in Terry's direction.

"All right then," Sam assented, sitting down again next to her husband, "but I dare say that _this _part of the story isn't really mine to tell…"

Terry leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear,

"It doesn't matter, dearest, tell it anyway."

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x ****  
**

August 30th, 2019

0100 hours

Ships pulled into harbour at the docks of Rochester, England. Anchors splashed down into the water as the men aboard quickly began to exit, having been sent over by the UN to help with the re-conquest of London, to take it back for its people. A tall, black boot stepped forth onto the soil, testing it gingerly. Moving up from the boot, one could see that this man, with his tightly packed muscles, garnered from years of bodybuilding and exertion in the deserts and war-torn areas of the world; his physique lithe and seemingly designed for fighting, so intense was the manner he bore himself. He turned to nod at his commanding officer, who met his gaze, idly noticing the buzz cut of his blond hair like all the soldiers preferred; his eyes as blue as the ice that slides into the sea. The commanding officer made a note to keep an eye on this man, there was something about him that bespoke of a latent tenderness despite the apparent coldness visible in his eyes and almost overly formal behavior towards the officers.

The blond man adjusted his gun on his hip, his face towards the city of London, noting the spires of fire still rising from the ashes of the city, and he idly wondered if anyone was stubborn enough to continue to live there even as their city crumbled in its death throes.

_So, I've come, _the man mused, a sarcastically bitter aura tightening his face as he began to walk forward alongside his brothers in his platoon. _So I've come … To this place, east of Eden, although one might say I have been to the east of Eden for a long time. No matter, the task is at hand. I will do my duty to evacuate the civilians and none other. Goddammit, my job is so unpleasant… _

He continued to ponder along such lines as the troops broke through the blockades the stragglers had set up to protect themselves from their own army. The blond-haired man smiled rather sardonically,

_I guess they never expected rescue, didn't they?_

And he picked up his feet, calling to his men, urging them in the direction of Camberwell, London, never knowing what encounters he would have there.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x ****  
**

"And that's all I can relate to you at the moment," Sam smirked, as she rubbed Hudson's ruff of fur along his neck. She held back a yawn, eager to get to bed. Glancing around, she noticed that the others were very alert still, notably the animals.

Manny and Ellie were deep in quiet conversation, Buck and Sid were discussing guns and adventure because of the story, whilst Diego had taken Mark and Ben over to a pile of blankets, gently carrying them over, as the boys had fallen asleep during the last part of the story.

The bull mammoth abruptly halted his talk with his mate, crossing over to Sam, tiredness lingering in his facial expression as he pointedly asked,

"Sam, was that man at the end – was he Terry?"

"That I can't tell you, Boss," Sam countered. She let out a yawn, rising to her feet, she grabbed her blond-haired man's hand, pulling him along with her. "And it's time for bed now, so you can all just think it over."

In the silence that descended over the group as the couple left, Frank and Claire wearily exchanged hugely significant glances, an action not lost on Manny – or Sid.

With a deep yawn, Sid lay down on some blankets on the floor, his footsteps unsteady as he murmured,

"I … think … it … was … Terry…"

Manny crossed over to him, laying a coverlet over the tired sloth, replying,

"So do we, Sid, so do we."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-**

End of Chapter Three

* * *

**Also, one last note: I tried to include all of the herd members as much as possible, which is another valid reason for the extreme length of [[strike: this chapter]] these chapters, although the second one (this third chapter) is drastically shortened because much of the good stuff takes place in chapter two. Also, the strike out thing is a vestige of tvtropes, ignore it. **

**Also, any and all reviewers, please review these chapters based on _what is in the chapters, _and not your personal views on my emphasis with the Bible et al. Thank you.  
**

**And... (dun dun dun) review?  
**


	4. Memories

Destiny

_I have a confession to make: the following three chapters you will be reading originated (again) from my tendency to overwrite myself. These chapters were originally written as one long one that ended up as 12,000 words and counting, but that was divided into three chapters for readability, since I doubt anyone (though you might Trev ;)) would be willing to read a chapter of that length. Also, I feel I must apologise yet again Trev for my agonising slowness in writing this story, especially when tis written for you! :D You'd think I'd focus more on it, but alas I haven't, for which I am so sorry. _

_By the way, any and all reviewers, I would like you to all please remember to say "Happy birthday" to Trev when you review; after all, tis his story, tis one way of letting him know as well that you care about him too! :) I should have remembered to say that last year in 2010 when I first began it and posted it here, but sadly I forgot. :/ Also, unlike the preceding chapters, this one contains no musical accompaniment, although the succeeding ones will have some pieces, just as a heads-up.  
_

_To Trev: I so hope you're doing better now! I've been praying so hard and long for you since this began, and I must say (if you don't mind me being so bold) that your situation has affected me greatly as well, something which is rather odd considering that we haven't even met yet! Though I must say, I feel strongly as I know you for who you are :) and that is the sincere truth. I wrote these/this chapter (s) with you strongly in mind, and I really hope you love them, especially considering since I threw in a rather prominent reference to a book quadtrilogy you adore. :D (and I do as well.) _

_Here is the first chapter of an early birthday gift for you, and I hope you love these chapters! :) :D _

_Happy early birthday Trev! I hope you have an amazing one this year! :D _

_God bless, _

_your friend, _

_Tawny _

_x  
_

**I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of **_**Lost in Time**_** belong to Trev.**

...**  
**

Sam watched as Manny covered up the sloth gently, swaying marginally as he attempted to try and hide the effects that his consumption of the wine had had on him, a small half-smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she remembered her father tucking her into bed at night. She stood up, holding the Book of Common Prayer tightly in her hands. Shifting the prayer book over to her right hand, she let her left hand slip downwards, reaching inside her left pocket, she felt around for as if searching for a book, but her hand collided with emptiness. Sam exhaled a deep sigh, knowing what she had been looking for: the Bible that she always, always carried with her.

_I must have lost it during those first tumultuous days here, _she realised with a pang as she saw her husband rise to his feet, his footsteps uneven and halting as he made for the door. Sam crossed her arms as she stared after him pointedly, acknowledging that he wasn't able to see her glare. A few moments later, Claire followed, her hand in Ben's as she helped the tired boy to their room. Last of all, Frank left his position next to Diego, his eyes haggard and red-rimmed – Sam wasn't able to tell if it was a combination of hearing the painful days of the Troubles retold or the effects of the alcohol on him – as he turned his gaze upon her. The despair and sorrow lingering there struck her cold, and she reached out a hand towards her brother as if to steady him, but he pushed by her, nearly slamming into a wall as he headed out of the main meeting room.

_They have all had too much to drink tonight. _Sam narrowed her eyes,

_Looks like -_

"We'll be staying up, Sammy?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. "And acting as chaperone to all our utterly wasted friends to make sure they don't hurt themselves?"

It was Hudson, and as he asked his question he nodded in Manny and Ellie's direction, and Sam took in at one glance that they were both totally inebriated. Ellie kept giving little hiccups as she rocked Peaches to sleep, whilst Manny appeared to not know where his location was as he looked around the room blearily. Sam was amazed that the mammoth had even been able to last through her story.

"Aye," Sam replied laconically to the large wolf, patting the ruff on the back of his head affectionately. Trying to make light of the situation, she continued, winking at Hudson,

"And, who knows, we might even get a show of sorts tonight."

"Now, now, Sammy," Hudson rumbled, an admonishing tone in his voice, but Sam merely found herself chuckling in response,

"Oh, come on, Hudson, how bad could it be?"

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sid came awake nearly two hours later. Pushing away the blanket Manny had covered him with; he rubbed his eyes, blinking against the harsh incandescent lights that illuminated the base. Stumbling to his feet, he yawned, and then he avidly trundled over to the table where the herd had celebrated their reunion only a brief time earlier, looking around eagerly for the bottles of alcohol. He glanced around, noting that both Sam and Hudson had slumped on the couch, fast asleep, and then grinned wickedly as he began pouring wine into glass cups, lining them up neatly on the table. He glanced around surreptitiously; waiting to be sure that silence had wrapped the base in its grip before hastily placing his claws around a goblet, tipping it into his mouth. The sweet tang of the wine made him giddy, and he eagerly downed one drink, preparing himself another before the first was hardly drunk.

…

Buck heard the clinking of glasses from where he slept beside Diego and Mark. Standing unsteadily to his feet, he noticed the calm expression on the two tiger's faces as he covered his eye against the light. He shook his head slowly, trying to get used to how blurred his surroundings where. Glancing around the room, he noticed that Sam was awake, rubbing her eyes wearily while Hudson shook himself marginally, and he wondered what they were doing up so late. Another quick circuit of the room showed that all of his friends were asleep – bar one. Buck raised his head, seeing a dim shadow at the far end of the room by the table, preparing drinks.

_Another drink sounds good to me, _Buck's mind whispered to him,

_Let's go see wat's up, eh? _

"Yes, yes," Buck agreed, "And see if t'ey'll give us a drink as well – anot'er one could 'it my sweet spot at the moment."

He placed his knife down carefully beside the sleeping tigers, and then tiptoed off, anxious not to wake anyone, although he was fully aware of the fact that Sam and Hudson were up and watching him with interest. He noticed them exchange a series of pointed glances, but he shrugged and scuttled over to the table. As he approached, the shadow gradually became distinct as he hurried over, revealing itself to be the form of Sid, avidly guzzling down goblets of wine.

_Wine, _Buck's mind murmured. _I'm ever so 'ungry for more of that good stuff!_

"Me too," Buck replied, leaping onto the table. Sid looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and his face sloppy.

"What are you doing, Buck?" He slurred. "These are my drinks. Go get your own," he frowned as he tried to gather up the glasses near him, his claws slipping against the table as he tried to hold himself up.

"Oi! Well, that was just splendid of you, Sid ol' pal, making drinks and not 'aving plans to _share_," Buck retorted as he uncorked the bottle of wine, easily shifting it on his arm so that it teemed into a wine glass. Grinning into Sid's furious visage confidently, Buck drank his glass in one gulp. He glanced over at Sid nonchalantly before pouring himself another, but midway through he felt claws encircle his neck. Gasping for breath, he turned to Sid, suddenly realising that despite his small size, the sloth was actually quite formidable.

"These. Are. My. Drinks," Sid hissed at Buck, tightening his grip around the weasel's neck. Buck gulped, struggling to free himself.

_Ask Sid if he wants to fist-fight for ownership of the drinks! _His mind called out.

_If you 'aven't noticed, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, _Buck snarked as he pressed his hands up against Sid's claws, finally extricating himself. He slid to the table, gasping out,

"If it's a fight you want, Sid ol pal, you can 'ave one, because I wants some more drinks!"

Sid glowered at Buck, slamming a glass down onto the table. Buck smirked at him,

"So, what kind of a fight do ya want, ol pal?"

"I challenge you to a drinking game," Sid retorted, holding out the wine glass to Buck, "Winner takes all."

"Ah…" Buck contemplated as he glanced back over towards the petite woman reclining on the couch and the wolf standing next to her protectively. Seeing that they weren't looking to interfere, Buck drew his claws along the tip of a wine glass thoughtfully,

"So, basically, mate, yous and me will drink the wine 'ere, and whoever 'olds out the longest wins the entire loot?"

_Let's do it! _His mind shouted at him.

"Oh shut it you pesky thing," Buck growled. "I can make me own decisions!"

Turning to Sid, he said,

"Well, 'ow does that sound, ol mate?"

"Deal," Sid shot back laconically as he poured more wine into the cups, and then set the bottle in the centre of table, staring Buck in the eye. Buck returned Sid's gaze with pointed emphasis as he slowly reached for one of the glasses arranged neatly in the middle of the table by the sloth for later drinking.

"Then let's do it," Buck said, picking up a glass as Sid took one in his claws. "Let's get …Buck Wild."

Sid took a slip of his cup as he watched Buck guzzle down his draught of wine, declaring,

"I'm gonna win."

"Oh really?" Buck responded, slurring the words marginally as he took another drink from a glass near him.

"Is that what you're telling me, Siddy boy? Well, let me tell you, it's on."

Abandoning their battle of words, the sloth and the weasel took their positions, eying the plethora of wine-filled cups on the table. As if struck by a hidden signal, Buck began guzzling down the alcohol, daintily holding two cups on each paw, which he tossed into his mouth avidly, the pungent red of the wine staining his mouth as he watched Sid mimicking his actions, but much more slowly, taking his time and with no hurry.

_Probably because 'e's a sloth, _Buck's mind encouraged him.

"Too true, too true," Buck whispered, grabbing one more cup and bringing it to his mouth. Glancing around, he determined that he had already consumed at least five glasses, whereas Sid had made it to only three. Confidence in his abilities made Buck lightheaded as he scooped up two more cups as Sid began on his fourth, juggling them on his shoulders in a magnificent display of half-drunk consummate skill as he tipped the cups into his mouth, their taste making him dizzy and joyful.

He sent Sid a lopsided grin, hoping to impress the sloth with how well he was holding up in the contest, but Sid ignored him, continuing to drain his glasses steadily. Disappointed by Sid's response, Buck glanced around, his sharp eyes surmising with one look at the rest of the sleeping creatures that no one – yet – knew of his and Sid's shenanigans.

_So we might as well be as reckless as we can! _Buck heard his mind whispering to him. _If we do, we're sure to win then! _

"All right then," Buck muttered. He reached out with unsteady paws toward the decanter of wine before him, teeming it out into a tankard that would have doubtlessly have been better suited for mead, but Buck, knowing nothing of human history and caring even less, guzzled the wine avidly, peering at Sid with his one eye. The sloth merely stared back at him, continuing his process of taking small, unhurried sips. Buck noticed, to his dismay, that Sid's eyes were twinkling with amusement at him as the sloth perched on a chair.

"So 'e thinks 'e's confident of winning, now is 'e," Buck queried of himself with droll emphasis. He snapped his head forward, gathering up a handful of glasses. He winced as the glasses struck together, the loud clinking sending the gong of a headache into his brain. Sid smirked whilst Buck groaned, battling the first effects of the hangover.

"You can't beat me… I won't let ya!" Buck protested feebly as he slumped onto the table, his one eye bloodshot. He grabbed at a glass, pouring the contents into his gaping throat voraciously, his upper body swaying in a lurching, unkempt manner as he strove to remain upright. He glanced at Sid out of his half-lidded eye, noting that the sloth appeared to be experiencing no side effects or problems at all, and his expression pinched out of shape from sheer annoyance.

"Can you keep this up, Buck?" Sid asked, pouring himself another small glass and downing it easily. "You know, you really don't look that great."

"I'm . fine." Buck insisted, narrowing his eye with a determined expression on his face as he changed his selection of wine to another made in a region that was completely foreign to him: _France_. He rubbed at his eye blearily, trying to determine the meaning of the squiggles painted on the wine bottle.

"P..i..n..o..t ... n... o ... i ... r," Buck murmured, sounding out the squiggles as best he could. He turned to look at Sid,

"'Ey Sid, do ya 'ave any idee as to what these … thingies are?" He said, indicating the lines on the wine bottle.

Sid gave a shrug,

"I dunno. Ol Manny and the others were asking Sam about them I think a bit earlier – but I didn't hear what they were, I was busy talking with _you. _How do you expect me to know what they are? They're probably something," he paused momentarily to yawn, "totally useless and that is no good for _us_."

"You don't say," Buck muttered skeptically.

"I say that _I_'m winning, and you are not."

Buck frowned at Sid's outrageous statement. Gulping down some of the "Pinot Noir" he sent a glare at the sloth,

"No, you're not." He shot back.

"Yes, I am," Sid insisted, this time taking a controlled gulp from his glass. "You're on your last legs for this contest," he slurred.

"I am not," Buck tried to protest, but even as the words left his mouth a wave of nausea hit him. He leaned forward over the lip of the table, struggling not to retch. Forcing the sick back up into his throat, Buck allowed himself to slide off the table, collapsing on the floor. He raised his paws, grasping in vain for something to hold but his fingers only brushed air.

"I think I'm gonna go lay down," Buck muttered, swiveling around with hasty, unsteady movements. Lifting himself painfully to his feet he lurched forward, noticing that his vision was dim as he clambered to all four paws groggily. His head bumped up against something soft, emitting a low grunt of surprise. Buck's eye roved over the light yellow form, and he slowly comprehended that he was next to Diego. The sleeping tiger was undisturbed by his presence, Buck noted with relief, as he settled down alongside the sabre to work off the hangover with a good, long rest. He gratefully closed his eyes, hiccupping slightly from the effects of the overdose of alcohol, but before sleep claimed him completely, he felt a large paw draw him nearer, and smiled.

...

Crash heard the clinking of glasses from where he was hanging from Ellie's uplifted tusks, as his sister had graciously furnished a resting place for her brothers by sleeping with her tusks erect, whilst Manny rested beside her with his tusks encircling Peaches. Crash shook his head blearily, aware that both his sister and her mate kept emitting little hiccups in their sleep. Manny stirred uneasily next to Ellie, and then Crash had to hurry to scamper out of the way as Manny raised himself to his feet – still asleep – and then began to stroll around the room, his footsteps unsteady, swaying with each ponderous step as he moved in the direction of the chiller room area. Crash rubbed his eyes, trying to get used to how blurred his surroundings where, and he noticed with one glance around the room that Sam was awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes wearily as Hudson shook himself marginally as Manny passed by them, causing Hudson's mouth to drop open briefly in astonishment before Crash saw the wolf dart after his brother-in-law, trailing after him. He watched as Hudson turned back to Sam momentarily, sending her a wink as she pivoted in Crash's direction. He glanced around for Buck, wondering where the mad weasel that he still regarded as one of his heroes was, and noticed him slumbering, occasionally expelling slight hiccups underneath Diego's paw.

_How sweet, _Crash thought to himself, and then shook his head. He frowned, shaking his head. _I must be stupid! The yummy, heady… um… what was it called? Oh right, juice! Frank gave us must be doing stuff to my brain if I was to think that is "sweet" ugh! _He paused, unsure of what to do now, feeling a dryness in his throat. _But… uh, I wouldn't mind having some more of … that … juice. _

A dreamy smile crested his lips as his stomach rumbled, making him realise anew how thirsty he was, and he skittered across the hard pavement of the base to the table where Sid was still preparing drinks. Leaping onto the table, Crash hurried over to the wine glasses, slipping in between them to get to the wine bottle. Grasping it in his paws, he stumbled, watching the liquid teem gracefully into a cup. He reached out to grab it and lift to his mouth, but Sid's claw gripped it,

"What are you doing, Crash?" he slurred. "These are _my _drinks." He frowned as he tried to gather up the glasses filled with wine near him, his claws slipping against the table as he tried to hold himself up,

"Get your own."

"That's just what I'm doing," Crash responded, a cocky expression in his eyes as attempted to pull the glass away from Sid's grip. Finally winning the tug-of-war, he downed it in rapid succession, grinning confidently at the sloth. He glanced over at Sid nonchalantly before pouring himself another, but midway through he felt claws encircle his neck. Gasping for breath, he turned his head towards Sid, realising that despite his stunted form and apparent stupidity that he showed at times, the sloth was actually quite formidable. Crash's eyes widened with fear as Sid's grip tightened on him, dimly hearing Sid mutter,

"These. Are. My. Drinks," as Crash gulped, struggling to free himself. Pressing his hands up against Sid's claws, he slithered out of the sloth's grasp on him, the light of fire in his eyes.

_Well, I want some drinks too. _

Lifting up his fists defiantly, Crash sauntered over to one of the glasses next to him,

"So, it's a fight you want, eh, Sid? Well, that's okay with me, because I want some drinks myself, you ol' glutton!"

Sid glowered at Crash, his eyes turning red from either overconsumption of alcohol or anger, and then punched Crash, sending him flying across the table, although fortuitously the possum's slight size enabled him glasses of wine without breaking them. Nearby, he noticed Sam glance over at them, covering her mouth with her hand. Crash jumped to his feet, his fists curled up. Wiping away saliva from his mouth, he called out,

"Banzai!" as he launched himself at Sid, knocking him off balance.

Sid responded to Crash's assault by winding up his arm, giving Crash an uppercut but the possum ducked out of sight just in time. Sid's claw rammed into empty air, and he growled, narrowing his eyes as he faltered unsteadily forward, allowing time for Crash to kick him, causing Sid to grit his teeth in pain as he scrambled after him. Crash caught his breath, straightening himself so that he stood upright, ready to face Sid as the sloth came at him, fists flaying.

The possum shook his head slowly, feeling dizzy, but he held up his paws, ramming them into Sid as the sloth counteracted with a punch that upset Crash entirely. Crash fell to the floor, the breath knocked out of him.

x-x-x-x-x

Hudson trotted along after Manny, his claws tapping the paved floor of the base loudly. Manny continued to stumble forward, heading for the confines of the chiller room as Hudson hurried to keep up with him, but the report of a gun echoing from one of the meeting rooms stopped him short. He glanced behind him, seeing Sam's curious face peer at him,

"Hudson, what is it?" she asked with a light sigh. "I just had to separate Sid and Crash from fighting over the wine, now what?"

Hudson waited in the corridor as Sam crossed over to him, the expression in her eyes weary. He averted his gaze from her,

_I wish you were my Sam – the one that I knew all those years ago, _he mused.

"Just keep a stiff upper lip, that's what we need to do, Sammy," he finally uttered in response, brusqueness underpinning his tone. "Now let's go look into things and hope everything hasn't gotten too chaotic."

Sam chuckled,

"With people like my Terry and my brother and the world that we're in now, I should think that would be expected."

_Damn you and your relentless optimism! _Hudson muttered to himself with a pang of regret. This was at least the Sammy _he_ knew – from before, from an era where a situation like this was rendered impossible.

"We should probably see what that report entails, actually," Hudson countered, moving at a brisk pace. Sam jogged alongside him,

"But what about Manny?" She queried, casting her eyes down the passage. Hudson followed her gaze briefly, ascertained with a glance that the problem with Manny wasn't urgent, and turned back to business,

"He'll be fine – for the moment." Hudson replied. "Now let's go ferret out the matter of that gun report."

He trotted onward, pausing at the door that led into the room that the rest of the humans had decided to stay in for the night. Sam pushed the door ajar, and Hudson saw her eyes widen as they both peered in.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam muttered. Hudson peered in, noticing that Claire and Ben were huddled up against each other, their bodies tight with anxiety.

_What in God's name is going on here?.! _Hudson exclaimed, stepping into the room to find the source. He gawped in astonishment as he noticed that Frank and Terry were lurching unsteadily in the middle of room, their pistols grasped loosely in their hands.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, sending a glare fraught with death at an inebriated Terry. He could surmise what had occurred, after Sam had finished her story, the men had gone back to the alcohol without a second thought.

Terry let out a drunken chuckle,

"Oh, hey, Wolfie," He slurred. "Me and Frank here," he indicated Frank with a noncommittal incline of his head, "the two of us have decided to hold a shooting match."

"Using each other as targets," Frank explained, his finger slipping downward on the pistol. Hudson heard it cock before Frank sloppily aimed in it Terry's general direction. It also did not escape his notice that whilst in a drunken stupor and potentially able to kill each other, Frank and Terry _were_ being somewhat amiable with one another.

_Now THAT is unusual, _Hudson mused. Beside him Sam commented,

"Ah, the influence of alcohol. Always worked like a charm with those two – made them decent to each other." She paused, winking at Hudson. "Unfortunately for either of them, I don't keep my wine cellar well-stocked." She paused, and then added significantly, "and neither does Claire."

A bullet ricocheted along the ground, right next to Hudson's paws. Hudson's eyes grew steely,

"Sammy," he muttered, striding forward. He nodded at her impatiently. "I think it's time we get to business."

"Aye," Sam agreed, drawing even with Hudson. The wolf saw her eyes narrow as she glanced over at Claire, whose eyes were still pools of fright as she clutched her son close to her. Sam turned back her brother and Terry, crossing her arms. Hudson waited beside her tensely. He saw her give a little drop of her head, and throwing his head back in response, he let out a piercing yowl. Terry covered his ears,

"Oh God, make it stop!" he yelled, his pistol slapping against the floor. Frank let out a chuckle,

"Guess I win this match, now don't I Terry?"

"You shut your mouth," Terry snapped, his eyes flashing.

"STOP IT!" Sam's voice boomed. She stepped forward, and to Hudson's extreme amusement (and Frank's, he noticed) Terry quailed under her stern gaze. Placing her small hands squarely on her hips, he watched as her gaze flickered from her husband to her brother,

"Terence Edmund Daniels, Frank David Howard, your actions have disappointed me greatly. It would be in all propriety for both of you to _sit down _and wear off the effects of the alcohol." Hudson saw the men exchange bemused glances. Terry shrugged his massive shoulders grudgingly before gingerly sinking down onto the hard concrete floor. Frank remained stubborn,

"No, Sam, I've had enough of your hypocritical irrational belief…" he paused, grasping for a word. Finding it, he continued, "Stuff… tonight."

A firm, yet gracious smile slipped onto Sam's face. She indicated the floor with a brief gesture. The wolf watched her, a proud smile lingering momentarily on his face. _This is the Sammy I knew. _

As Frank slowly moved to sit down, Hudson glanced back through the doorway, his ears pinpointing thuds coming closer.

_Well, that's just brilliant. Now the herd is awake – and alcohol sodden too. That is just fantastic! _

Ellie peered into the room, Peaches held in the crook of her trunk. Behind her Hudson noticed the curious faces of Diego, Mark, and Buck. Eddie rode on Diego's shoulders. He glanced upward at Ellie's back, finding a wine-drenched sloth and the rowdy one of the female mammoth's two possum brothers reclining on her, blearily-eyed. Hudson's sharp eyes detected bruises on Sid's face, and Crash looked worse for wear as well. A black eye was beginning to swell on the left side of his face.

Sam pivoted around, facing Hudson. Seeing the others she took charge of the situation,

"Hudson," she declared. "I want you to go find Manny (who is probably in the chiller room by now, poor dear) and bring him here."

"What do you have in mind?" Hudson questioned, his heart sinking. He hated that he doubted the woman that he knew was his Secretary-General. He knitted his brows in confusion.

"I think we all need to wind down a little – with one of mankind's oldest soporifics -," She explained as the rest of the herd started to lie down again, ranging themselves in a circle near the humans. "It's time for another story," she winked at Hudson, "And this time, Terry will do most of the telling! Although I will break in for relevant parts. Now go, _James._"

Having Sam use his first name was an honour; and Hudson recognised with a pang that Sammy was gradually slipping into the confident leader he knew. He inclined his head respectfully,

"Aye, Captain!" he exclaimed, before spinning on his heel.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

End of Chapter Four

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x  
**

**_Review?_**


	5. Inferno

Destiny

_This is the second chapter update, split from, as I mentioned before, a 12k words chapter, cut for readability. I hope it works :P _

_Music for the Troubles "sequences" (for this chapter) courtesy of the amazing Two Steps From Hell! Hmmm, how fitting... anyway moving on. _

First Part: www. youtube watch? v=LRLdhFVzqt4&feature =related _"Heart of Courage" of Two Steps From Hell, play from 0:00 to 0:27 for the sequence where Sam greets Rachel Weintraub and encounters Matthias Willoughby (Trev gave him a perfect, wonderful last name! :D :D) again. _

Second Part: www. youtube _ watch?v=EptSSXN_HIfg_ "Dragon Rider" (*Significant wink at Trev* - I 'ave a feeling ye'll appreciate **this **one! ;) :P) play from 0:00 to 0:18 when you reach Terry's story, denoted by military time. But only the first two parts however, I have another piece in mind for the part following :) ie play from 0200 hours to 0300 and then stop, please. ;) _

Third Part: www . youtube watch?v=NiSf6w7HZ78 _"Meant to Be" of Two Steps From Hell, play from 1: 05 to 1:21 for when Terry sees the woman reuniting with her husband that she was separated from during the height of the Troubles in England, this piece will lend a sense of peace and hope amidst the horror, and tis gorgeous. :D This is one of my absolute favourite pieces of Two Steps From Hell, and this was the perfect place to employ it! :D This piece is for 0700 hours.  
_

Fourth Part: www. youtube . com watch?v=tisjQ6P1Ix8 "_This Land" from **The Lion King**_, _play from 0:00 to 0:27 for 1000 hours and 1100 hours when Terry is narrating again via third-person limited, and that's the last of the pieces for these sequences. :D _

_Happy early birthday **again**, Trev! :D May God bless you in everything you do as you celebrate (I hope you don't mind me saying this publicly, considering that your profile says you're twenty-two :)) your twenty-third year of life, huzzah for you! :D I thank God every day for you for being such a great friend to me - you're the friend I've been longing to find my entire life! :) _

**I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of **_**Lost in Time**_** belong to Trev. Also, any references you see to the Weintraubs or the Cassons belong to Dan Simmons and Hilary McKay respectively from the novels **_**Hyperion Cantos **_**and the Casson Family series. :)  
**

...**  
**

Sam watched as Hudson disappeared into the corridor. Satisfied that everything was going much more smoothly than before, she turned back to the others, tossing her head with a careless lilt as she crossed over to Terry. His eyes lit up when he saw her as she eased herself down next to him. His expression faltered, and she knew he was disappointed in himself. Leaning close to him, her short hair brushing his face gently, she planted a gentle kiss on his lips, letting him know he was forgiven.

"Terry," she murmured, after pulling away from the kiss. She cupped Terry's face in her hands, seeking his eyes. She was relieved to discover that they didn't have the glaze associated with drunkenness glistening in them anymore. "Terry, I want you to join me in telling our story – it's time we continue it, so that we can all rest…" As the final word left her mouth, a memory intruded.

_Her father sat at the piano of the bar, playing stolidly as the customers yelled at him or cursed. Frank stood nearby, looking embarrassed, clutching ten-year-old Sam's hand tightly from where they were sitting next to the piano. Sam didn't quite understand why her Papa did this, but she forgot everything as the melodious tones of Finlandia echoed from the instrument. The men in the bar exchanged glances with each other, gradually beginning to fall silent as her father sang the words of an ancient hymn. Sam ruminated from her perch near the piano, trying to remember what the title was. Finally, having sung all four stanzas, her father rose from the seat, reaching out for her hand. She stood up eagerly, taking his hand in hers with simple trust, and her Papa smiled at her. She leaned against him as the Howard family went out, and then the knowledge struck her like a thunderbolt as she rested on her father's arms when he scooped her up to carry her out. _

"So that We can all Rest on Thee," she mussitated, earning a puzzled glance from her husband, who had no idea what she was talking about. She laughed, drawing him closer into her embrace. "I was just realising something about my Father, Terry," she offered in explanation. A light brightened and then dimmed in his eyes, and she sighed inwardly. "Anyway," she continued, "I just know we can rest on Him through this – and if we do, everything will be all right." She took his hand as Hudson reappeared, guiding a sodden Manfred over to the circle of the herd. "I want you to join me in telling our story," she added. "I will start, but then I'll need your input." She gave him a saucy grin, and was pleased when his face danced,

"All right, Sam," he replied, drawing her closer to him, their lips joining again. "Anythin' for you. Just so long as you won't make me tell that embarrassing encounter I first had with that brother of yours, I ain't having that!"

"Of _course_, Sweetie," Sam countered, sarcasm belying her genial tone. She bent forward again, giving him an impulsive peck.

"River Sam," Terry teased her, playfully brushing her hair back. She saw that his expression faded into pensive reflection, his eyes growing stormy as memories of their first meeting flickered in them. Hudson padded up behind them, making Sam lose concentration. She turned to face the wolf,

"Well, Hudson, is everyone ready?" she asked. She glanced up, seeing the weary eyes of mammoths, sabres, two possums and a sloth and weasel gazing at her. Her gaze danced over to her sister-in-law. Claire leaned against Frank's shoulder, holding Ben's hand as she met Sam's stare.

"Yes." Was Hudson's quiet reply.

Sam inclined her head quietly in reply, her fingers finding Terry's as she drew up her legs so that her chin rested on them whilst she looked back at weary animals and people surrounding her. She knew they were all in desperate yearning for some hope, especially since the events of the morrow loomed menacingly at the back of all their minds.

"All right," she spoke clearly into the silent room, "I think it's time for some more story-telling – and Terry here," she added, nudging him significantly, "will be giving his input over some parts, but anyway, let's begin. It was September, 2019, and I had just spent all morning reading my Daddy's Bible (again). After a bit of inward rebellion, I ventured back into the world again... seeing it with new eyes, and longing to help in some way..."

x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-

September 3rd, 2019

Sam ducked her head outside of her door. Overhead, smoke still obscured the blueness of the sky as bombs continued to drop at intermittent times, and gangs ran around the dying city, setting afire abandoned buildings. Sam coughed as the smoke filtered into her lungs, and then narrowed her eyes as she uttered a small huff.

She disappeared back into the flat briefly, emerging into the street again with a medium-sized bag slung over her shoulder. It contained only one book nowadays, the only one she was most drawn to to read – the Bible. She began to walk forward at a brisk pace, intent on her goals for the day.

_Today I have to convince my neighbours that it's in their best interest to leave here. _She stopped short, the bag bumping against her shoulders as she threw her head back, gazing into the shuttered windows of people too frightened to even step outside. She knew many of their names – there were the Cassons, Bill and Eve, the Willoughby's, Robert, Stella, and their son Matthias, who had formerly owned and operated the King's Head pub in upper London, there were the Weintraubs, Sol, Sarai, and their daughter Rachel, who Frank and Sam were both fond of, among others. One window among the many remained open as if utter defiance of the elements ravaging London, and a dark head poked out of it,

"Sam!" Rachel called. "How are you? Damn, this smoke is awful, isn't it?"

Sam felt a grin tug at the edges of her lips. Rachel's infectious personality was always catching.

"I'm fine, Rach," she yelled back, stepping aside so that the sword hanging loosely at her side was revealed. "Just goin' to take an exploring jaunt, be on the lookout for the soldiers."

Rachel grinned,

"I'd come with you if I didn't feel that I need to stay here with Dad and Mother," she said. "After all, I might find something of archaeological significance! But for the moment I think I should stay here." She paused, looking down at Sam with a wistful expression in her eyes. "See you later, alligator," she added, waving. She then closed the window, disappearing inside.

"While, crocodile," Sam whispered, a pang sweeping over her heart. Her family was close with the Weintraubs, it was her father's friendship with Sol that led to him using that very phrase that passed on down to Frank and Sam as a means of saying without saying anything really at all "I love you." Sam smiled again, a sad smile tinged with wistful reminiscence as she started to navigate her way through the cobblestone streets, deep in thought.

She bumped up against someone, and she glanced up. Upon realising who it was, she stepped away. Fear quailed in her eyes,

_God__**damn**__ it! Gorram it, why did it have to be him again? God, why won't he just leave me alone? _She snapped at herself, repressing a shudder as memories of their last encounter surfaced. Finally, she raised her head again briefly, meeting Matthias's sorrowful gaze.

"Sam…" he muttered, avoiding her eyes. He held out his hand towards her, but she icily refused to take it. "Sam…" he tried again. She resented the timid awkwardness in his tone, indicating her displeasure with an ill-tempered scowl. "Sam… I truly am aw'fly sorry about what happened last time… can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Sam remained silent, eying him with angry contemplation.

_I don't want to forgive him for what he almost did to me, _she exclaimed to herself, rebellion rising within her as she crossed her arms belligerently. _He doesn't deserve it – at all – damn bastard. Ugh. _

Unbidden, words sprang into her mind from the book that she had consistently been perusing over the past days,

"_Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, 'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?' _

_Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.'" _

Sam frowned, belligerence flitting in her hostile gaze _I don't __**want **__to forgive him, Father _she snapped to no one in particular. _And damn it all to hell, there is no reason I should have to. _

_Forgive him, _urged a still small voice, _as I have forgiven you. _

_But it's hard! _Sam protested, finally looking at Matthias again. _I can't forgive him. _

_But __**I **__can, _the voice insisted, prodding at Sam's reluctance. Sam, however, was eager to test this Person who she had decided to follow.

"Then help me hold out my hand to him," she whispered, keeping her arms rigidly at her side. At last, she proffered her hand to him, and at that moment felt a surge of joy throb through her – and knew it was not her own.

"I forgive you, Matthias," She mussitated, taking him fully into her arms as his eyes widened from sheer surprise as she hugged him tightly. Breaking away, she gasped,

"My apologies, Matthias, that wasn't me there – twas someone else!" Gathering up her bag more onto her shoulder, she continued,

"I'm on a mission to try and convince the people on my flat that it isn't for our good to stay here, even whilst we wait for the troops to come." She paused, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, gazing at the man earnestly,

"So, will you help me?"

Matthias' mouth quirked in a wry smile, and Sam noted that shyness crept into his expression. She realised at once that her plea for aid wasn't going to be answered. Seeing that he was loath to reply, she shook his hand firmly and set off again, determination glinting in her eyes. Her gaze darted back overhead at the proliferation of smoke and intermittent flashes of bombs that obscured the sky before she sat down again in an alcove, the remains of a formerly majestic house, and began to read her book again.

Finally, coughing from the excess of smoke and dust littering her previously beautiful city, she picked herself up and started to wend her way back to Camberwell, a sigh in her heart.

...

Sam ran into her flat, carefully laying her bag onto the couch, and then girded herself with one of the swords. She removed it from the wall, admiring its bright sheen and pungency of its blade. _Maybe, just maybe this'll help me convince my neighbours that we can't stay here much longer – that it's in our best interest to prepare to leave, _she said to herself, her glance straying around the room, her heart already missing it. _And to show them all, it will begin with me – I must start_, she thought, a sigh escaping her lips.

...

Sam strode outside, having gotten together all her absolute necessaries into her small book bag, which now contained only one book, her sword hanging from her scabbard as she put her right hand over her eyes to shield them as she looked upwards into windows of the people who nearby on her flat, noticing the spirals of smoke rising into the air as if on wings. Annoyed, she let out an indignant huff before brushing her hair out of the way before calling out,

"Everyone who is still here, come on, you all must get out of your houses!"

"But we don't want to," a timid, small man who she knew to be Matthias' father shouted back before slamming his window shut. Sam grimaced,

"But it's no longer safe here! We must get ready to move on!"

x-x-x-x-x-x

"You actually _forgave _that man?" Claire gawped at Sam.

"I agree," Ellie seconded Claire's opinion. "I didn't see that coming, Sam." She added with a smile.

Manny glanced up at Sam where she sat next to Terry and the dire wolf with weary eyes,

"When is Terry going to come into this story?" He asked abruptly, still brain-dulled by the alcohol. Ellie nudged him with her trunk for his rudeness,

"Ah… sorry," Manny murmured. Mark spoke up from his warm position under his uncle's foreleg,

"But still, when is Terry truly going to enter this story?"

Sam turned to her husband, giving him a significant smile.

"Well, Terry," she said, playfulness lighting up her face, "I think it's time you provide your input – as we agreed upon."

Terry smirked,

"True," He said, "but I still ain't gonna be the one to tell about my embarrassing first encounter with that mangy brother of yourn."

"I resent that," Frank muttered as Sam chuckled,

"Terry, just tell the story… Sweetie," she continued, taking his hand in hers while she gazed into his eyes. Terry's shoulders sank; when Sam looked at him like that he had no other chance than to perform whatever act it was that she needed. He leant forward, placing a tender kiss on her lips before raising his head. He cleared his throat briefly, and began,

"I was always your typical American kid, growing up with an interest in guns and machinery, intent on proving meself to my folks – and myself." He saw perplexed glances being exchanged amongst the animals, and realised that his tendency towards firearms was bewildering to them, but he resolutely ploughed ahead. "Anyway, at the ripe young age of seventeen, I decided to join the army, getting into the field through a scholarship in football…"

"The rough, rowdy _American _variant," Frank broke in. "Unlike _our _much more companionable sport."

Terry ignored Frank's interruption: "And I took a place in the army, as a marine – an army man who fights on both land and sea – honestly expecting that I'd only one day to be called upon to defend the home front. Fate had other plans in mind for me, however…"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

September 7th, 2019

0200 hours

Terry scanned the surroundings as the troops fanned out, searching the lower buildings, herding any people they found into the wide, open spaces. He grimaced as he looked on, noting how the residents of a once-great city resembled refugees from every theatre of war he had seen. He turned to his commander.

"Orders, sir?" he asked. The commander cast his eyes upwards, locking his gaze onto the blocks of flats beyond.

"We've heard reports that there's fierce fighting not ten blocks from here. I need all of those flats evacuated ASAP."

Terry nodded, saluted, shouting "Yes, sir!" and ran off, taking with him thirty troops.

_Here we go again_ he thought to himself.

0300 hours

Terry placed his hand onto his forehead, attempting to see beyond as he stopped his men short before directing a matched pair of them, two brothers, Thomas and Nicholas Levin, to span out and into the rows of flats that loomed up in front of them. Terry held back a groan as he saw that many of the houses were charred and burnt, the people huddling inside them suspicious of these new invaders.

_And .we're . only . coming . to . help _he muttered to himself, his chest heaving as he ran over to the nearest house. The people inside, a woman and a child, looked up at him, fear trembling in their eyes. In that moment, Terry felt a rush of sympathy. He hadn't wanted to be here, aiding yet another country in dredging themselves free of the downfall of societies near and far – even France and Italy had been in the same circumstances. He knew that these two innocents hadn't wanted it either, _and they were only a part of it because they had been in the wrong place at the wrong time_, he thought acridly.

He held out his hand to the woman, helping her out of the rubble, but as she murmured her thanks, he could discern that she was about to tell him her name and the name of her little son he averted his gaze coldly. He vaguely heard her explaining that her husband had died when a score of civilians had been fired upon at the river Thames.

"Come along, then, you two," he uttered at last, the intonation of his words gruff. He hailed his comrades,

"Tom, Nick!" he hollered. "Help this two get to one of the buses, and then report back to me."

The men saluted him, called back,

"Sure thing, Lieutenant!" And came forward to do as they were bidden.

0700 hours

Having removed the scores of people still eking out a living in the houses nearest the shore-front, Terry urged his troops onward. Their booted feet pounded on the cobblestone streets as they advanced forward. As they drew closer, he saw out of the corner of his eye a woman emerge from the shadows of the decaying buildings, obviously calling for someone else, although he was out of earshot to fully hear what she was saying. He stopped short as he noticed a tall man casting his glances around as if looking for something – or someone. The woman stepped into the light, and he saw her mouth fall open in a gasp as she ran forward, calling out the man's name joyfully as she threw herself into his arms. The man opened his arms as she flew into them, enfolding her in a deep embrace as she leant against his chest. As Terry watched the two hold each other, he let out an inward sigh. Annoyed with himself, he shouted,

"Forward, men! There's still many more refugees to get to safety. Tom, you stay back and make sure those two lovebirds get onto one of the buses."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Thomas grinned, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he broke away from the main ranks. Terry grunted;

_There is no way someone can be as nauseatingly cheerful as that kid _he thought. _Especially when we are living in times like these, that people are already beginning to call the "Troubles". Damn, that's too small a word for this mess we're all in! _

Shaking his head, he slung his gun over his own shoulder, gesturing at his troops to move forward into the steadily encroaching smoke that continued to billow out of London, looming over the once glorious city.

1000 hours

Terry blinked his eyes against the smoke penetrating his eyelids, obscuring his vision. Everywhere his gaze fell, he looked upon vestiges of still-burning houses, with a few scattered remnants of colour flitting into his vision occasionally – the remnants of formerly beautiful gardens. Terry flinched as he came across the charred remains of a person who had been trapped in one of the fires, the only thing left being the ashes that the wind imperiously rustled. Smoke and fires continued to fill the air until the whole interior that Terry and his men were exploring resembled something more fitting Dante's Inferno.

_An inferno _Terry mused as cold anger, almost as a kneejerk reaction, began to throb through his body as he looked on at the devastation. _So many lives lost, so much of this needless… and what's the goddamn point of all this… nothing… Gorram it, it ain't fair! _He scowled, bitterness flashing in his eyes.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Wait a minute," Sid broke in, causing Terry to halt momentarily in his conveyance of his tale. He exchanged a bemused glance with Sam,

"Yeah… Sid?" he asked. "What is it?"

The sloth twiddled his claws uncomfortably; his eyes still red from the alcohol.

_He's still a little in awe of me, _Terry realised with a slight pang.

"I… um… didn't know that you were… um, sort of _kind_," the sloth muttered.

"To be honest," Manny admitted, giving the man a small smile. "Terry, I don't think any of us were expecting it."

Terry's mouth quirked in an odd little half-smile,

"Yeah…" he agreed. "That's the thing about people (and I suppose, animals, too)," He added, feeling the eyes of herd probing him, "they're not clear-cut. Every time you get to know someone… you only learn they're more 'bigger on the inside' than you may have assumed at first."

Realising that he had just made one coherent speech, Terry felt his cheeks redden. He saw Frank staring at him oddly, obviously aware of what he had just done, and then his gaze fell on Sam's. She was smiling at him proudly, but despite his wife's support his embarrassment still stung. He cleared his throat, eager for the heat to be off him – somehow.

"So…" he said casually, placing his arms behind his thick neck, "what do you all say; shall we get back to the story?"

Mark raised his paw,

"One second," he murmured. "Hey, Terry, could you tell us the identity of that couple you saw being reunited?"

Terry frowned,

"Sorry, kid," He replied, "but I never caught their names. Tom Levin later told me that they were a married couple who had become separated when the Troubles first struck, and one of the reasons he was with me was because he was lookin' to find his own girl, Rose Casson, back in Camberwell…"

"In which case, you'd probably… should return to your story," Manny broke in, fighting back a yawn. "Before… all of us fall asleep and… don't hear it."

"Right on, Boss," Terry said. He let his arm slide down the wall until it rested protectively against Sam's shoulders as she snuggled next to him, her eyes shining like bright stars. "Anyway, where was I?" Terry continued, partially to himself. "Oh, of course! It was now 1100 hours sharp, and as my men and me kept making our way into the city, the devastation grew even more intense, and the fumes rising from the smoke and fires still burning in the city made it hard to breathe, and even to see as we ventured further in, hoping to discover the rest of the survivors, hoping they were still alive despite the intensity that worsened as we broke through, nearing Camberwell…

x-x-x-x-x

September 7th, 2019

1100 hours

_Approaching Camberwell, London _

Terry coughed, his eyes smarting as smoke tickled his face. Annoyed, he pulled a cloth out of his pocket, placing it over his mouth, cursing as he did so. He glanced back, making sure his men were following, and he was relieved to find that they had all prepared themselves. The smoke grew increasingly thicker as they advanced into the fringes of the city, making Terry's comparison of the area to Dante's Inferno even more relevant, although Terry himself was now wishing he had never drawn the correlations between the two as he gritted his teeth, ploughing through the rubble left in the wake of the British army's uprising against their own government and people, along with the majority of Europe. Terry repressed a sigh as he stumbled through the skeletons of houses, their blackened walls hanging crookedly askew in all manner of grotesque shapes.

_How can people still even remain here, in this area? _Terry asked himself as he trudged past the vestige of a church steeple poking out amongst the burnt copses of the other homes; the only reminder that it was a church being the cross standing upright as if in defiance of the elements that had sought to destroy it. Terry grunted, turning away from the cross with a scowl, sucking in his cheeks with disgust. Flickers of movement in the houses that still remained standing alerted him back to his thoughts: _There's no reason for them to stay here, with all this smoke and death and despair, but they don't leave, even though it would be in their best interest to – but why stay? _He inquired again, _ain't nothing left to hold to... Or believe in. _

He gestured roughly to his men at the houses, and saw their grins of pleasure as they recognised that there were still people in the midst of all the destruction they had been wading through. Terry stood alone, an island in the middle of a rushing river, as his men teemed past him, scaling the walls to reach into and pull out to bring to safety the women and children and the few men that were still in the decaying buildings, watching them ascend with curiosity mingled with fear. He noticed that one of the Levin boys, Nick, was struggling to lift a small girl down to the solid ground, so he marched over to him, taking the little child in his arms. She gave him a quivery smile as he placed her onto the ground, and then stepped back to watch Nick Levin and his brother assist her family in getting out. Satisfied with a job well done, Terry gently guided the refugee families towards the buses, and then turned his boots in the direction of Camberwell with a relieved sigh. His duty was almost done here. Or so he thought.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

End of Chapter Five

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x  
**

**_Review?_  
**


	6. A Skirmish of Wit between Them

Destiny

_And here's the third chapter! :D I almost titled it "Belligerent Sexual Tension" but it was shafted for being too troperiffic :P so instead I went for calling it in reference to Much Ado About Nothing with a Literary Allusion Title... it appears I have failed, trope-wise... but it works because that's how Terry and Sam act towards each other in this chapter. :) Oh my word Trev, these two are so much BLOODY FUN to write! :D I love them, they're so adorable and feisty and belligerent together. :) _

_Also, Trev, be on the lookout for the Easter Egg contained in this chapter that is the reference back to the original roleplay that we did that helped me immensely with these chapters! Twill be rather obvious. ;) :)  
_

_Music for the Troubles "sequences" for this chapter, courtesy of Two Steps From Hell again. :)  
_

First Part: www . youtube watch?v=U2SwR8HM43A "_Promise" by Thomas J. Bergersen, play from 0:00 to 0:18 for the part when Terry first encounters the young woman with the book and they begin talking (ie arguing) and then go to look out the window.  
_

Second Part: www . youtube watch?v=bjlBCAx6330 _"Moving Mountains" of Two Steps From Hell, play from 0:00 to 0:30 for the part when Terry and Sam, still engaging in a battle of words, begin to depart from Sam's flat._

Third Part: www . youtube watch?v=Nz0b4STz1lo _"Jupiter" from Holst's the Planets suite (huzzah a truly classical piece!), play from 3:26 to 4:21 for the part when Sam and Terry join the rest of the refugees and begin to have some insights about each other, and that concludes the music for this chapter. :)_

_Happy happy birthday Trev! (And I say it this time for certain, since this update is going up on your very birth**day**, huzzah for you! :D And this is to so make up for my lack of getting it up on your actual birthday last year, so I hope you'll be reading this soon! :D God bless, x T :) ) _

**I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of **_**Lost in Time**_** belong to Trev. Any references to the Cassons belong to Hilary McKay, from the Casson Family Series.  
**

...**  
**

1200 hours

_The outskirts of Camberwell, London _

Terry scaled the heights with his men, breaking through any doors they found locked. What he found he had seen before, but every time he saw it it sickened him; pets left to starve, suicides, complete chaos. Those who remained, as they always were, were keen to remain. But Terry was in no mood for sympathy; he could see the smoke rising, he could hear the distant sound of gunfire and war approaching slowly. He needed to get them out quickly; in such circumstances, he decided it was better to ruffle feather and see them live tomorrow than be courteous and dead. Eventually, his troops had reached the tenth floor, where he was faced by a sight he wasn't expecting; a woman, confident -and, surprisingly for a war torn area, _clean _- staring at him, hand gripped on a large, sturdy book.

"Lady," he called out, keen to get her to move along, "We are evacuating this region. You need to come with me – now."

Her dark eyes flitted dangerously as she gazed back at him appraisingly, noting the appearance of his American military uniform and his gun. He took the time as she regarded him steadily to evaluate _her _for himself. He saw that her body shape was petite and trim, and that a sword dangled in a scabbard at her side, lying carefully balanced on the couch. Her facial appearance was unmarred by either makeup or eyeshadow, and Terry found himself idly wondering if this girl only wore such things under extreme duress. In her hands rested the book he had seen the moment he'd entered. A medium-sized bag sat next to her, and he couldn't help noticing, though as much as he wanted to deny it, that she was quite pretty. She tipped her head slightly to one side, inspecting him as a large smile blossomed on her face,

"Howdy, Soldier Man," she murmured. "Have my neighbours been evacuated, though, sir? I'm so sorry, but I refuse to leave unless they leave, but everyone is too scared to listen to me and would rather stay here, though I can't see why the hell they would – it's too dangerous, and my daddy always taught me that I had a duty to others, and so, well, will you help me?"

Terry found himself grinning at this girl's naiveté. Shaking his head, he ordered,

"Come over to the window, lady," he muttered. The dark-haired girl, whom he judged to be around the age of eighteen at the most, rose to do as she was bidden, the sword swinging lightly at her hip. He gestured brusquely outside. Down below, Tom Levin held another glossy brunette in his arms, exclaiming over and over again as he twirled her around. Terry watched as the girl's face quirked in a miniscule grin of understanding,

"So Rose Casson found her Tom at last," she whispered, almost to herself. Terry rolled his eyes, striding away from the young woman. He spun around on his heel, thinking she would be following him, only to discover that she had pivoted from her lookout at the window, her sabre catching flashes of light.

_Damn sword. Good thing she didn't decide to try and fight me with it. _

"Look," Terry muttered. "We've got to get movin' on already. Get all your necessaries, girl, and let's go."

She stared back at him evenly, her hand slipping down to finger meaningfully the metal of her sword,

"Damn it," she countered, raising her eyebrows slightly as she glanced down at her sabre, "I'm sorry, Soldier Man, but I'm not leaving this here - you can't make me leave it... it belonged to my father... and he died some weeks ago..." she murmured, tears filling her eyes as she gazed back at the man, defiance flickering in her expression. "You haven't even told me your name yet, either," she remarked, laying her sword carefully on the sofa. She picked up her bag and the one book she had with her, and at last he saw the title flash briefly in the light: _Holy Bible. _

He looked at the book, longing swamping him to leaf through its pages again. Terry narrowed his eyes, a scowl creasing his features. Abruptly, he turned back to face the woman, hoping she hadn't seen the sorrow in his eyes. To his profound relief, she hadn't and instead was all no-nonsense,

"My name is Sam Howard," she introduced herself, sticking out her hand to be shaken as she half-laughed, half-sobbed as he saw her realise that she would now have to leave the place that held the last memories she had of her father, "many apologies for all of the trouble I've caused you, Soldier Man."

Terry was in two minds. He looked from the sword, the woman, and the sword again. There was no reason to shoot her for wanting to keep it, but if she pushed his buttons... He let out an angry sigh. He shouldered his rifle, walked gruffly past Sam, and strapped the sword to his side. The woman watched him with mournful yet intelligent eyes, realising that his actions were prudent.

"Fine," he grumbled. "I ain't gonna force you to leave it… but I ain't gonna let you carry it either, safety protocol. My name ain't important. Just another soldier in a war-torn land."

He noticed Sam's lips camber in a slight grin as she gazed at him, obviously pleased that his stern façade was beginning to crumble marginally.

"It's important to me," she whispered as she reached out as if to take his hand, and then withdrew it instantly as a modest blush swept over her cheeks. "And I don't tell secrets, you can trust me with your name." She added, her eyes sparkling at Terry as she fell into step with him. "And," she continued, a mischievous expression in her face, "If you don't tell me your name… I'll be stuck calling you… Soldier Man."

Terry paused, finally seeing her for what she was… a woman. She seemed strong, confident, passionate… _Stop it Terry _he snapped at himself, the second time that day. _She's a refugee; she'll be out of your life tomorrow, or the day after. _He shuffled his way to the door, throwing it open carelessly even as he adjusted his gait to the sword. "If ya must know, it's _Lieutenant _Daniels. And it ain't a secret, now I am asking you to move your ass so we can get the 'ell out of here, Miss Howard." With that, he strode out the door, back onto the landing. "Jesus H. Christ," he grumbled to himself. "And I thought evacuating _Rome _was bad…"

Sam emerged onto the landing after Terry had spent several minutes tapping his foot with ever growing impatience for her to reappear. She smirked at him playfully,

"I just had to make sure I had the book that saved my life with me," She said, offering no explanation as to the title of the book, although Terry could guess which book she was referring to. "My daddy used to say that I couldn't live without my books, and I certainly must admit that tis true, I would die without my books – but this one… its author, rescued me, so it's my only cargo."

"Fine," He muttered. "But if we need the space for refugees, that is gonna get thrown over, understood?"

The woman rolled her eyes as they began to descend the steps. He could feel her gaze probing him, and knew that any moment she was going to utter something he wasn't going to want to hear,

"You're just intent on being difficult, aren't you?" Sam asked pointedly.

"Congratulations, Miss Howard," Terry retorted. He was beginning to wish he had a cigarette to calm his nerves. This day had been long enough without having to escort a woman as disgustingly cheerful to the point of annoyance as Sam to safety. "Thank you for figuring that one out, now get a move on." he paused and then continued, glowering at the book he knew was concealed in her bag, adding almost to himself, "whatever, miss Howard, I ain't paid to care about your damn book or if you decide to bring it along or not. And like I said, if that book gets in the way of in the way of savin' lives, it ain't comin'. Now _move it, _ma'am, this ain't a picnic! Or haven't ya noticed your city becoming a pile of ash and rubble?"

Sam frowned at him as they walked down the steps together, adjusting her bag as she fell into step with him so that it wasn't digging into her shoulder, occasionally casting curious glances over at Terry before she finally spoke up again,

"You know, Soldier Man, you haven't told me your first name, your real name… and I'm inclined to know it, so could you please tell me?"

"You ain't knowin' it, refugee," he snapped back. "Seen enough of these troubles to know it ain't worth the pain to be making attachments right now…" He slowed to a stop as he and the woman joined the rest of the soldiers and refugees milling around, meeting Sam's gaze piercingly. "Cos a third of the world's governments don't exist no more, well over a hundred million dead and counting, and every economy on earth tanking because of it. No ma'am," He said fiercely. "You ain't learnin' my name, cos the way I see it, at the rate things are going this goddamned war's gonna kill anyone of us… maybe even all of us… before it's done messing around."

He let the silence simmer for a moment, and then swerved on his heel, Sam's sword strapped firmly to his side. He didn't even look back as he made his way through the crowd of soldiers and refugees talking and preparing to depart.

_Wait for it…_

"I'm not just a 'refugee'," Sam retorted, clumping along in his footsteps. "I am Samantha Howard, and refugee is not a word I like applied to me."

He halted briefly, watching her glance upward, her eyes noting that the blue of the sky was almost fully obscured by a blanket of ash and smoke, and her head hung momentarily as if paying her final respects to her dying city. Terry rolled his eyes, beginning to stalk forward when he felt a small hand touch his shoulder. He pivoted on his heel abruptly to face her, his face hardening. Sam stared back at him, undeterred by the frustration he knew was flickering in his expression. A hint of a smile lifted the corners of the woman's mouth,

"I'll have you know, Mr Daniels, that I am intent on surviving this catastrophe, so you needn't be afraid to give me your real name…" she paused, seeking to meet his eyes, but he refused to look at her, and then finished, "because I am sure as hell determined to know it!"

Terry gritted his teeth. "It's _Lieutenant_ Daniels… and my name's Terry." He winced; he had done it, he had told her his name… he knew he shouldn't have. Now he would get pestered by her… and he would try to protect her. He glanced around the sea of refugees, his gaze landing on her, and sighed. "And face it, ma'am, you're a refugee whether you like it or not… we all are when it comes to this goddamned mess."

Sam merely grinned, shifting her book bag to fit more comfortably on her shoulder,

"I know that, indeed," she countered, "but who's to say that we can't make the best of this situation?" She reached into the bag and lifted out the book he had seen her with the first time he had laid eyes on her, riffling the pages affectionately. He began to walk forward again as she held to his pace, a smirk dancing in her eyes,

"I can't live without books, Soldier Man," she continued, eying her sabre. "_Or_ my sword," she added pointedly. In response Terry merely grunted, hoping she wouldn't keep up her chatter. "But then it should be obvious to you, anyway. This book that I have with me was the last thing I packed today along with a few essentials before you came." She finished, a smile quivering on her lips.

Terry's long strides made it hard for her to keep up with him, so after a moment she ran alongside him, to match his gait. She carried the book close to her chest,

"Do _you _like to read…" she paused, and then amended meaningfully, testing out his name, "… Terry?"

Terry grunted again, peeved by the question,

"Ain't much of a reader, miss, never been too good at it. Sure, I try when I can, but it's kinda hard when you're a soldier in what feels like the only goddamned country stable enough to pull everyone's collective asses out of this mess…" He wasn't going to admit that when he was a young teen, it had been the classics from Italian authors such as Dante that had enthralled him, but circumstances such as an involved life in the US army prevented him from recalling the vital elements of the story beyond the most thrilling part – Inferno. He had admittedly been interested in them because of his Italian-American heritage, but there was no way in hell that he was going to confess to this troublesome female who wouldn't leave him alone for seven minutes that dark part of his life before the army.

He paused in his answer, his thoughts and memories catching up with him as he shuffled the girl's neighbours into a nearby bus, herding as many could be fitted into it. He turned back to Sam wearily. "The last three years I've seen more places than the rest of my life combined, and it's all been the same; death, disease, destruction… ain't much time for reading when you're saving the world… and if it's one thing I've learnt, it's that there's no good in this, possessions don't mean much if you're dead, and that book," He spat out, "and this sword ain't gonna keep you alive." As if to prove his point, a stray missile struck the block of flats that had just been evacuated, but neither Terry nor the girl flinched, although several people nearby cried out.

The young woman frowned at him,

"Well, you're just a big bundle of joy, now aren't you?" she inquired sarcastically. Her dark blue eyes flashed at him with barely restrained annoyance as she riffled the pages of the book she held. In a moment, the light in her eyes grew softer, and he witnessed a transformation descend upon her face, and he winced, rebelling against memories when he himself had looked like that.

"What if I told you I had a reason to be hopeful in spite of all this?" she mussitated, her face vibrant with pure life. "During all this, I have lost my father and most of my friends, and my brother…" A faraway look glinted into her eyes for the barest of moments. "I have no idea where he is or if he's all right, but… I know there's a reason for hope in all this, dammit!"

Terry spun round so sharply she jumped.

"Let me make this clear," he growled. "I have seen most of my friends die in battle." He snapped, thinking of Jackson's death and how he had been unable to save the boy. "I have seen hundreds of innocent people die for no good reason in cities known across the world that ain't much more than ash now. There ain't no hope in this situation, because your city is just another place with a another great name that's dying to become a pile of ash. And nothing you say will change what I've seen." He noticed the refugees moving past them faster than they were moving. "Now move it, miss, or get left behind in this goddamned fiery wreck of a city."

Sam's eyes snapped at him, dancing with fury as she carefully placed her book inside her bag, muttering,

"Fine." she declared, dashing to catch up with him. Keeping pace with his strides as he let her follow him to one of the buses, he glanced behind him, noticing a stray tear come into her eye as the young woman looked at him.

"Frank, where are you?" she murmured, her voice just audible enough for the soldier to hear.

Terry overheard her, but was in no mood for consolation.

"If this Frank is a civilian, then you'd better check the casualty lists, cos I wasn't kidding when I said that this city is going to hell; they reckon about 20,000 people already dead. If he's military… well… he's either dead, or wishing he was."

When hearing the death toll, Sam gasped, stumbling over a loose stone on the cobblestone road, her eyes filling. The weight of her bag threw her slightly off-balance, throwing her up against Terry, causing her to lean against him, making a group of soldiers nearby snicker with amusement. Glaring at Terry, she flinched as she touched him as if she was bitten by a snake. Recovering her composure, she mustered,

"Frank's in the military…" she halted, and then whispered, "Terry, if you can't do anything else, can you please help me find my brother? And then after that we can go our separate ways – but I must find Frank… I can't shake off the feeling that he _needs_ me now…"

Terry let out a humourless chuckle,

"Miss, trying to find one soldier here is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. It ain't a picnic, and I ain't got the time; I'm actually broaching protocol by talking to you – we're here on business only. If you wanna do what's right by yore brother, then get the hell out of London; if he cares for you, he ain't gonna want you anywhere near here."

Sam crossed her arms, her expression belligerent.

"I am getting the hell out of London," she retorted. "Alongside you, Soldier Man." A smile entered her eyes briefly as she made her second statement and then confusion emerged. "Also, I have a question to ask you. What made you say that 'if he's in the military… he's either dead, or he's _wishing_ he was'?" Horror entered her expression as she thought it through. "Please, Terry," she implored. "Please tell me what's really going on here – I don't think that I or anyone else really knows or understands what has happened… apparently throughout all of Europe…"

"You really wanna know what's goin' on?" he said bluntly. She met his gaze stubbornly and didn't flinch. He sighed, taking it as a sign to go forward. "Fine, I'll tell you; half the world's governments don't exist anymore, chaos is everywhere and blood runs down the streets. Millions are dead already and millions will be dead by the time this is over. Your brother, if he is alive, will wish he is dead, cos he ain't gonna be allowed to sit back once 'peace' is restored to this city, he will be sent elsewhere, to more dying cities piling high with more dead. If you really wanna know what's goin' on," he growled. "It's this; the world you knew is gone. Ain't gonna come back. Welcome to a world without freedom or democracy, ma'am, cos both those things are busy dying in the streets."

As his speech ended, the girl's face crumpled. She frowned at Terry thoughtfully, her glance roving around, taking in the smoking buildings, and the fire turning the sky a lurid red, and exhaled a weary sigh,

"I understand what you are telling me..." she began, and Terry saw her lips form as if she was going to say "soldier man" again, but instead she continued, "Terry. Thank you for being so honest with me, I appreciate it." She grinned, obviously thinking of his earlier comments about the danger in forming close bonds with refugees, and then said, "And don't worry about losing me after all this is over, Soldier Man. I met you before somewhere else, and I know in my heart my brother is alive, and I have _no _intention of being chucked to the side once all is said and done."

She extended her hand as if for him to grasp it to hold and then withdrew it rapidly. She glanced over at him shyly, a blush crimsoning her fair cheeks as she mussitated,

"Never mind, I'll go join my friends and neighbours… I can see you obviously don't want my company," she finished, plastering a brave smile onto her face as she took off at a run, her bag thumping at her side as she clutched the handles of a bus slowly lurching into life, sending one last smile in Terry's direction.

Terry remained still, staring after her. A sharp call from his commander brought him to full alert,

"Lieutenant Daniels!" Commander Powell snapped. "You, go with that bus," he ordered, indicating the bus that Sam had just climbed onto, "they'll need added protection."

Terry saluted his commanding officer,

"Aye, aye, sir!" He replied, dashing off to catch a hold of the bus. Sam smirked at him,

"I knew I wouldn't be able to get rid of you," she declared. Terry cleared his throat, his neck felt hot,

"Uh… yeah, sure, if you wanna believe that... Sam," he uttered at last, earning a grin from the woman. Belatedly, he realised his error, he had just called her by her first name. He groaned inwardly, knowing this wasn't allowed, but one glance at Sam's happy face made up for all that.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"And that is the story of how Miss Howard and I met," Terry grumbled. Sam nudged him playfully, causing him to wrap her protectively in his arms.

"I couldn't help noticing that you seem to have forgotten to tell of your 'embarrassing first encounter' with me," Frank broke in.

"That's gonna be saved for another time," Terry growled.

"Terry is right," Hudson spoke up, glancing around at the herd. Manny's eyes were barely open, and it was the same with Ellie. "We should all get to sleep now; we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Diego rose to his feet wearily,

"Yeah," he agreed. "One that will either mean our death… or our life."

Terry watched as Frank scowled,

"It will be our life," He exclaimed. "If I have anything to say about it."

"Hush," Claire soothed, glancing down at Ben slumbering in her arms. "We should all get some sleep now."

"Thank you for the stories," Diego added, standing in as the herd's opinion since Manny was half-asleep. "They were great. Now come along, Mark, time for bed."

Those still awake gradually gave in to sleep, until only Terry and Frank were left. Terry glanced over at Frank,

"What do ya think tomorrow will bring?" he asked.

A small half-smile, so reminiscent of that of his sister, quirked Frank's mouth,

"I don't know, Terry." he admitted. "I don't know."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

End of Chapter Six

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